The Sovereign Age
by FeedtheRain84
Summary: SPOILER. Why did the Warden go missing? Where did the Champion go? What did Morrigan mean when she said change was coming to Thedas? A new age is rising, one that could leave the world of Thedas in chaos beyond a Blight.
1. Goodbye

Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age: Awakening and Dragon Age II. They belong to Bioware. I simply love it for what it is.

A/N: A simple note. This is my first Dragon Age story, the idea came after finishing the rest of Origins DLC and the second game. Just as well, there _are_ spoilers in this fanfiction, so read at your own risk. Also, I will be using the characters I made/used during my play with games. Woman Cousland and Woman Hawke. If it bothers some I'm not using the names given by the game itself I apologize. But, rate and ewview and enjoy.

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Chapter One

Sleep was restless against the dark pull of night over the sky. A warm bed left cold and empty with sheets twisted and coiled.

Blue eyes peered at the ceiling, tracing the soft, intricate patterns etched into the stone that lay over-head. The soft breaths of her companion the only noise next to the lulling coo of night.

Seven years on the throne, six years married to her fellow Grey Warden and five years since the terrible prophesy Morrigan had lain at their feet.

She had remained silent, coming back and playing ignorant at the whereabouts of their former Apostate companion— of Alistair's _son_ who Morrigan had made reassurance of being safe, oblivious of his future. Licking her lips Annabelle sat up, feeling the thick cotton and silk fold and pile into her lap, it was something that plagued her dreams frequently. She shouldn't have kept all of this to herself, after everything she and everyone had gone through with the Blight, the war among the people and the dwindling Darkspawn.

Yet she was compelled into keeping her silence, Morrigan had slipped through that mirror, the warning heavy on her heart and mind.

_Change is coming to the world. _Morrigan had said, then the issues in Kirkwall, where the Qunari had attacked, the Templars and Mages causing the start of a frigid revolution and with it causing other Circles around Thedas to rebel, leading their counterparts— the Templars to do so as well.

The world _was_ changing, and it was being thrown into chaos.

It made her sick to her stomach.

Even being partially aware she could feel it, the foreboding pressure that came in like a deadly, low fog. She had to do something, anything! But these years had put her back into that spoiled, comfortable space, like back in Highever before Arl Howe had murdered her family and Duncan spiriting her away to Ostagar.

Peeling back the covers she felt a shudder dart up her spine as the flats of her feet pressed into the plush carpet that tickled with every brushing movement.

What was she to do?

Wait for what was to come? When she would have to fill Alistair and the rest of the court of Ferelden on what was going on?

She remembered killing Flemeth, but Morrigan had believed her still alive. The more she pondered it, the more she tried to shove it out of her mind until she had the right time to tell Alistair— to tell _everyone_ she was left with a gaping hole, like not all of her should be where it should.

Who was she to go too? She knew she couldn't tare Alistair away from the throne and she knew that if she left she could find a means, find out what all of this meant. But it was a simple conclusion on drawing upon the one person who could help her.

Alistair had mentioned he met her, the Champion of Kirkwall, her legends of defending the mages having stretched all the way to corners of the Anderfels and Rivian.

If Annabelle were to go to her— the Champion, would she be able to help? One could only hope so because that feeling, with each passing day was becoming worse. She couldn't sleep and eating was only there because she was in the presence of her husband and court.

It was irresponsible, not having told Alistair or anyone else sooner. What else could she have done? He would have asked every question under the sun and moon about the baby he had with Morrigan, to Flemeth and what impending doom the Apostate had spoken of, Annabelle didn't want to deal with it, not yet.

Maybe she wasn't that mature after all, since she was running from the drawing conclusion of that confrontation.

Turning her head at the sudden shuffle of movement her hues landed on Alistair's sleeping form, having rolled onto his back and body sprawled like a star Annabelle caught her lower lip and stifled a chuckle.

She decided she would miss him the most, since they were rarely out of each other's presence longer then a few days. She realised her dependency on him during his ascension to the throne, how because of their battle at Ostagar, being the only other one she could rely on had some semblance of a drug to her.

Shifting her weight Annabelle moved back to the bed, kneeling on it and trying to be as light-footed as she could as she moved to lean over him, mouth gingerly clamped against his own before pulling back. Such a deep sleeper and was normally the last one to be ready and moving in the morning. "Goodbye, Alistair." She whispered before pulling away from the bed and stepping to her dresser, reaching into her drawer to pull out what looked like a small book.

Annabelle had gotten into the habit of documenting her life since her deliverance to Ostagar, the pages old and withered and smelt of Darkspawn and forestry decay. Flipping threw the thick, manual sized book a fond smile curled the ends of her mouth, making her feel more weepy then she should.

What she was looking for fell into her hand, and carefully she lifted up to inspect it in the moons light— a wilted, carefully compressed rose. Leliana having shown her how once the redhead knew that she treasured the flower. Alistair had given it to her, the first gift, expressing a puppy-love crush for her.

She'd leave it for him, a token of remembrance for her and that she _would_ be returning. It broke her heart but she couldn't sit around anymore.

For _years_ Annabelle had been silent, helping rule when she could, to try and produce an heir for the throne, to support Alistair when she could. All of it for the greater good of Ferelden, which was why she was going to leave without a word. They had dubbed her the Hero and she should do best by that title by finding out what Morrigan could possibly mean, and with the Mages and Templars on a rampant Alistair needed to be here, helping the people as much as he could be.

Setting the rose on the ledge she closed the book and set it back inside, hiding it back in the depths of her drawers. Next she made sure to grab what she needed for her trip to Kirkwall, clothing and a brush. All the while trying to be as careful as she could, going into the additional room meant for her fashions, the vanity set up delicately.

Annabelle could fully remember what it was like to live out a sack and sleep on the hard ground; she wouldn't need much, a messenger bag filled with what she could carry and what wouldn't be a burden to her.

Peering at herself in the mirror she fingered the long, chestnut auburn strands of hair. How she loved having longer hair, it made her feel more like a woman, instead of the rugged Tomboy put to sleep when she had married Alistair.

But it was in the way, she didn't want to have to maintain long, thick hair on this journey, which lead her to shift around the vanity, plucking up a pair of silver scissors, used to trim her mane when it had gotten long enough. Taking a deep, sharp breath Annabelle gripped her hair in her hand, pulling it back before dragging the sheers through her hair, shredding and cutting until it fell in a pile at her feet, lifeless and ugly as she set down the scissors and fingered the ragged, choppy locks that brushed against her chin.

Silently she mourned the loss of her hair and femininity, since the two sort of went hand in hand at the moment. She'd have to discard what she learned as a queen and bring back the Cousland Rouge. Feeling a small tingle of excitement she picked the scissors back up and moved to even it out, leaving it in a backwards bob, bangs swept to the side and as much as she was going to get to mimic her old hair-style.

It would have to do.

Giving her head a quick shake she would have stood, moving back into the bedroom where her bag was waiting, as Annabelle knew she would have to be as quiet as she could. During her battle with the Blight she had kept everything, having grown an attachment to it, her pieces of armour stashed away and the blades she shined and sharpened every morning.

Moving to the closet she moved to quietly unclasp the latch on the chest and push it open, moving to gingerly slide out everything, laying it out before stripping the nightgown from her body and tossing it inside of the closet.

It didn't take long for Annabelle to dress. She had to be quick and quiet. Her armour fit like an old glove, Rouges armour. Fashioned to make sure she could be fast on the battlefield and not get stabbed or shot at and die, at least not right away.

It felt weird, being in her old armour, but a good sort of weird. All the dresses and frocks, the parties were natural but to a degree, which was why she savoured her alone time with Alistair, who would spar or love her body, anything leaving to the imagination of being herself.

Pulling a cloak from the closet she shrugged it on, it flared about the sleeves and was tight on her midriff, as it floated down and poked at her ankles. Making quick work she snapped a belt around her waist, keeping the cloak attached to her body before shrugging the straps for her daggers on her back like a bag, tightly compressed she slid her twin daggers into the hilts, making sure they were secure.

Kneeling down she pulled the messenger bag up and shrugged it over her shoulder, settling it against her side before she moved to the desk, pulling a piece of paper free Annabelle would fumble around for ink, hearing Alistair stir she stiffened, turning her head she turned to peer at him, having rolled over, facing her and taking up her portion of bed. That figures.

Shaking her head she scrawled a quick note and peeled it free, throwing the quill down she headed back to the dresser, pulling the preserved rose and moved to set it on the paper, in reach of his hand when he woke.

Sweeping one more wondrous look over his bare, battle torn body and she felt her heart break a crack. Gaze softening she would have turned away, pulling the hood from her cloak free and tugging it over her head Annabelle left. Fleeing the room.


	2. Kirkwall

Disclaimer: Everything Dragon Age belongs to Bioware.

A/N: Thank you to those who read and liked the first chapter. So I gift you with a second chapter! I hope you who read it enjoy it, please rate and review.

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Chapter Two

There was a reason Annabelle did _not_ like water. Having already been on this boat all evening and riding into a good portion of the day was making her queasy, the sloshing waves that rocked the boat sounded more like silverware scratching against plates.

Earlier she had stepped in something, causing brown patches of wholesome crunchy goodness to follow wherever she walked, earning her a few disgusted glances.

_Whatever_, she wasn't happy about it either.

Kirkwall came into view, the narrow, stone paths that pushed upwards, introducing the fortress city of the Free Marches with two giant crying male statues overhead, making Annabelle blanch.

She felt like she was sailing to her doom, not sailing to a city free of the Tevinter Imperium. Feeling a sudden lap of despair crash against her like the uneasy waves she craned her neck back, lifting a hand to shield her eyes from the sun. The feeling left by glimpsing at the statues was terrible; did everyone feel this way when docking at the city? If they did she knew why this place suddenly had all of its problems.

Feeling the boat lurch to a stop and sending her stumbling foreword into a beam, which she used to steady herself until the boat docked and the people onboard started to stumble onto land, Annabelle making sure she was amongst the crowd, landing on the dock and feeling it bounce under the applied weight and she peered about, squinting from the harsh glare of the suns reflection bouncing off the waters surface.

This place was called the Gallows, wasn't it? The sight of the big battle with the Knight-Commander and the First Enchanter, yet it looked as though nothing had happened here, the increase of security however said differently.

The sight was completely and utterly alien to Annabelle; the Templars really had rebelled, hadn't they? Ferelden's Circle hadn't rebelled as bad as the Circle in Kirkwall, mostly she assumed it had something to do with Wynne, who had been promoted to First-Enchanter after the Blight, leaving some respect to her from the other mages.

But she could never truly be sure about anything, since she had just deserted her throne, husband and people to possibly chase a funny fairytale spouted by Morrigan. But then again when had the woman truly ever lied? Annabelle knew she evaded the truth but never truly lied to her.

Or so her poor conscience had been saying the entire boat-ride here.

They were letting people into the city, transferring them to the city, which was where she wanted to go. Moving up to stand in line she fiddled with her fingers nervously how was she suppose to go about her search? She knew nothing about the Champion; she didn't know whom she knew, where she went or where she even lived! Maybe she hadn't thought exactly all of this threw.

That wasn't a surprise, even in her age she was still as impulsive as ever, not like it mattered she was already here. Then she vaguely pondered back to Alistair, what had his reaction been? In her letter she had explained everything as best as she could. About Morrigan, the baby and what she had said about Flemeth, how she had this terrible feeling she couldn't shake, that she had gone to find the Champion of Kirkwall.

Annabelle would return to him, she made that quite clear, she didn't want Alistair to think she had abandoned him when she hadn't. Leaving the rose had symbolized that more then her words on the paper.

Lord did she ever miss him; it was silly for a grown woman of her age to be having separation anxiety from her _husband_.

Feeling queasy from both the boat ride and her incapability of thinking this plan of action through she showed a minimal amount of I.D. Not exposing who she was but enough to get her into Kirkwall as either a visitor or a merchant, and by the way they were looking at her she was going to assume they thought her a merchant.

Upon reaching the city Annabelle couldn't help but marvel at the buildings, Kirkwall was built like a tower of social structures, which reminded her of Orzammar. People of noble blood or were just wealthy lived in High-Town, a place of clean marble and green plants growing.

But still thrown into chaos, the security here was no different then at the Gallows or the Docks. No doubt the heavy amount of guards that lingered at every corner was meant to keep the peace.

She had never been here; there had been no need. As a rule when Alistair traveled Annabelle stayed behind to mind the kingdom and hopefully it would be kept that way, she was gone and it would force Alistair not to flee in an attempt to look for her.

She could only wish so hard for that possibility.

It had been so long since she had seen a new place, and this place certainly was something else, people acted like nothing was wrong, the merchants who overcharged tried to get the gullible to buy, which meant her because it didn't take her long to find a notebook and a small stick of charcoal for writing. Luckily she managed to haggle it down to four bronze pieces for both and slid the book and charcoal into her messenger bag, leaving her back to wander the bazaar.

The Champion had a house in High-Town, but this place was like a stupid maze that every corner she took landed her back at the Bazaar, making her feel like she was back in that Dalish forest, wandering for days on end, running into crazy hermit people.

So taking another left she continued to marvel at high-town and what caught her eye was where the white marble had ended black smears against it had started, ashes and death from where the Chantry had once stood and as Annabelle wandered forth, eyes wide with horror, she realised it had been true.

The _Chantry_ in Kirkwall had been _destroyed_.

She had never been one for Religion, not when she had been younger and had been forced to over-dress and apologize for being born. It wasn't something she enjoyed.

Now? She prayed a little harder, for the family she had lost and still missed, for the people who had been murdered and destroyed during the blight— for her companions if they ever lost their way.

How could someone not try and find faith in the midst of ruin? She had it, only because of everything she had seen. She knew from this alone she couldn't ask about the Champion, it would be selfish of her to even bother.

The further she walked into the wreckage of the Chantry she spied the different labour workers, the Divine Maidens and guard who had a wall of security set up, no doubt digging out the bodies of those who had died and clearing away the debris so they could rebuild. It was sad and she couldn't help but feel a wash of empathy for the people who had to experience this.

Digging into her sleeve Annabelle tugged out a small, velvet pouch and pulled the gold thread free, digging her fingers in and tugging out two sovereigns, she knew she'd miss them but the empathetic person in her told her to at least donate a small amount of her funds, to help in anyway.

Dropping them into what looked like a golden urn she felt appeased by the light clink of the gold hitting the metal pot, earning her a look of pure gratitude as an older woman minding the donations held her hand up "Maker preserve you." She chanted, closing her eyes and offering Annabelle a blessing for the minimal amount of charity she had given.

Closing her eyes she spoke "Thank you." She murmured before looking about, she wished she could help, only having heard brief details of such damage, a mage had destroyed the Chantry, destroying what should have been a mediator's touch to the Mage and Templar situation. In one way she could see why, but killing innocents was still killing innocents to her, call her sympathetic after destroying hordes of Darkspawn but it seemed so _wrong_ to Annabelle that this had to be the first solution over many.

"It looks awful." Annabelle replied and the old woman nodded "We are rebuilding. Every coin helps." And she merely nodded her head in agreement every little bit _would_ help.

"It is terrible," The voice growled, startling Annabelle as she jumped and turned around, nearly whirling face-first into an ivory breast-plate, making her take a wide-step back she craned her neck to peer into the bluest set of eyes she had ever seen on a person.

Sputtering Annabelle cleared her throat "P-Pardon?" Annabelle squeaked, before clearing her throat "I mean, yes, it is!" Her voice lowering to try and hide the small shock at not having noticed anyone come at her back, which worried her a little. She was rusty, something that was unacceptable if she was going to be on this little journey.

The man seemed resolved in staying where he was, despite how uncomfortable he clearly made her, his eyes taking in her appearance, the hood covering her features and the subtle startled look on her face "You aren't from around here." It was more of a statement then a question and she nodded her head slowly "That's right." She said, keeping her tone mellow as she kept herself planted in front of the woman with the donation pot, taking notice to the bow and quiver of arrows strapped to his backside.

"This is Sebastian Vael," The Chantry mother said "He's been helping us burry the dead, gather donations and is rally help to rebuild. He's been such a blessing." She sounded weepy and Annabelle swept a look over the tight featured youth. He had to be at least a year or two older then herself "That's certainly gracious of you." She replied and he nodded "Someone had to after that Mage caused this." His voice was right and it didn't take her long to realise he belonged to the Chantry and hadn't been in it when it had been destroyed.

"Yes, well I've heard quite a bit about Kirkwall and it's problems." Annabelle told him, keeping her attention focused on the possibly dangerous man in front of her.

"I'm sure." The response was clipped, obviously stricken over the events of what had happened, for a moment Annabelle felt a shadow of sympathy, he obviously cared a great deal for the Chantry the devotion to it was written clearly on his face.

Clearing her throat to gather attention away from the sudden tension that had gathered in the air she spoke "You said "Mage" and not "Mages" I assume this was the work of one in particular?" She asked softly and his azure eyes turned cold, like ice and he nodded.

"He caused such damage and was spared execution by the Champion, it lead to the revolution, that Apostate is more trouble then what he's worth." If only Annabelle had been paying attention, he said Champion and that meant this angry fellow knew her and that was good!

Pursing her lips she looked up at him "I'm looking for the Champion, I hear she has an estate in High Town, do you know where it is?" She asked and Sebastian gave her a suspicious look "Why?" He asked and Annabelle sniffed "It's personal business, I'm afraid." She said and he glared "Her estate is up in the residential area, if not, you'll find her at the Hanged Man in Low-Town." Before Annabelle could say another world he stormed away, clearly angry and leaving Annabelle for a loss.

The Chantry Mother touched her arm, making Annabelle's attention dart to her as the older woman gave her a look of sympathy "You must forgive him, serah, he's angry and upset. He traveled with the Champion, you see. The Apostate betraying them all when he destroyed the Chantry, then the Champion sparing the Apostate's life out of love and Sebastian felt betrayed. He is a sweet man, he's done so much for us." She said and Annabelle turned her head, watching where Sebastian had gone, pondering.

What the hell had happened?

She only knew what other people had said, she had just got here and this place had so much turmoil it was amazing war didn't erupt every five minutes. Shaking her head Annabelle bid the Chantry Mother farewell and went on her way.

By the time Annabelle had actually found the Champion's house night was pouring in, she spent most of the day listening to stories, angry rants and how this person owed that person. If anything this Champion sounded like she was a Mercenary, not a Champion.

Because Annabelle didn't consider defeating a Qunari leader any sort of achievement, call her sentimental from traveling with Sten for half a year. Shaking her head her fist hit against the fine, wooden door and was answered on the forth knock, leaving Annabelle face-to-face with a petite, blonde elf with a cheerful smile.

"Hello there, can I help you?" She asked and Annabelle stalled "Uh…" She choked before giving her head a quick shake "I'm looking for Champion Hawke." Came the broken response and the elf frowned "Massare isn't here right now. She is doing an errand for one of the Nobel's of High-Town, but I assure you if you wait she will return. Should I say you stopped by?" Annabelle shook her head "No, that's fine, thank you." She said before turning away when the door closed.

The Hanged-Man, that was next. Looking up Annabelle sighed, glowering at the night-sky "How complicated can tracking down one famous woman be?" She asked, angry at how much time she had already wasted. She couldn't afford tracking the woman all over Thedas! Giving an insufferable hiss she stormed to where one merchant had pointed towards Low-Town.

Low-Town was… bleak, colourless and just as much of a maze as High-Town, the only difference was that Low-Town had colourful people, one boy had tried to steal her pouch of money— Annabelle stopped him, pressing his face into the dirty stone, telling him if he tried that again she'd cut his hand off. Call her cruel but she had only brought so much money with her and she didn't want it stolen by some brat.

Reaching the Hanged-Man was easy, all she had to do was follow the jaunty pub music and there it was, a doll being hung upside down and the loud roars of people inside enjoying the drunken stupor they were sending themselves in. Grasping the door handle she pulled it open and was immediately assaulted with the scene of booze and loose morality. Luckily she didn't stand out, what stood out were the loud patrons the barmaids and the tunes that filled the room.

Moving to the front of the pub she set down a few coin "What can you tell me of the Champion?" She asked, the 'tender arched one of his thick, caterpillar eyebrows and gave a loud laugh "You want a job done?" He asked and Annabelle nodded "Sort of." She said and he shrugged "You'd wan to speak to Varric, the Dwarf who comes in here and tells of her stories as rise to Champion." He said and Annabelle scrunched her nose in displeasure, for some reason all she thought about was Oghren and she shuddered.

While a perfect comical relief Oghren was… there was no kind word to describe the Dwarf, really. Sighing and nodding "Where can I find this Varric?" She asked before the bartender gestured to somewhere up the rotted staircase "He has his own room here, he should still be there." And Annabelle nodded "Thanks," She murmured.

So, the Champion traveled with a Dwarf, had a love-affair with the Apostate who destroyed the Chantry in Kirkwall, had the Religious Archer feel betrayed by her and so forth, sounded like a colourful crowd that could have given her own a run for their money… maybe and that was a very loose maybe.

On her way up the stairs she only took a moment to realize a brawl had broken out next to the staircase she was currently trying to go up, meaning one of the drunken, unruly men had knocked into her, sending the two sprawling on the wooden floor. His weight pressing harshly against her and immediately all the frustration that had been built up that day had broken free, like a dam giving way and letting the turbulent water flow.

Annabelle hissed and shoved the man off her, who was giggling because of the light "brush" of his hand against her breast, enraging her further before she whirled on the first man whom had shoved the second and had an accusing finger pointed in her face "Y-Yer husband owers m-me munney!" Spewing his drunken spittle into her face before colour burned her ears "That _thing_ is _not_ my _husband_!" She shrieked before throwing herself at the drunken man.

She was tired, hungry and just wanted to find the Champion! And feeling her fist collide with the face of the drunks who had no qualms about fighting her back felt good, the adrenaline like a drug, coursing through her body as she cut through the men with a near tactical ease.

That was until she felt a harsh crack smack against her skull and the odd noise of glass breaking, stalling her in her next punch to be thrown. Eyes wide she blinked, hood soaked and smelling of ale before the world tipped, vision blurry as Annabelle fell.

All she saw before the world fell to black was a pair of shoes, belonging to a very small man, a dwarf? Who knew?

Then all she saw was the inside of her eyelids.


	3. Searching

Chapter Three

Oh, her head hurt, _so_ bad.

Annabelle could hear the faintest sounds of people murmuring about her, whispering as though they didn't want to wake her.

Groaning she would have lifted her hand, all though it felt heavy she managed to lift it high enough to use the curves of her bent fingers to rub at the creases of her eyes, trying to make her eyes focus with the idle pressure of her fingers. Cracking open an eyelid she managed to peer into a blurry face, accompanied by a long, aristocratic nose and dirty blonde hair.

Her heart skipped a beat. "A-Alistair?" She croaked, lifting her heavy hands to grasp his face in her hands, eyes suddenly burning and going moist "I'm so sorry," Annabelle half-sobbed before two large, soft and _different_ hands grasped her own "I'm not Alistair, but you're welcome to keep touching."

Startled she jerked her hands back, eyes wide as she sat up too quickly, not giving the offending person enough time to stumble back as her forehead collided with his own, making her yelp and fall back, curling into a ball as both of her hands pressed against her now throbbing forehead.

"Andraste's Flaming Knickers!" The voice howled, Annabelle felt the same, just not as vocal as the string of blasphemes curses left the male, not looking up as she curled further into a ball, a sudden jovial laugh entering the situation "Damn, Anders. You know how to make an impression, don't you?" Annabelle managed to make out most of what was said before she rolled to her side and moved to sit up, eyes focusing "Anders?" She asked, confused.

She _knew_ that name.

Gasping she focused on the blonde mage who was still grasping his head "Anders!" Annabelle yelped before he lifted his head and scowled at her "Hello to you too, your Majesty." The response was dry and angry before she scoffed, ears red with embarrassment, how could she even begin to assume he had been Alistair? How shameful.

"So this is the Hero of Ferelden, she's… not what I was expecting." Turning towards the second voice she nearly came face-to-face with a Dwarf, a blonde Dwarf that was _lacking_ a beard.

Well, if that wasn't the most bizarre thing she had ever seen, this was certainly it.

Shaking her head Annabelle would have moved to rub her eyes, the throbbing of her forehead ceasing "And what were you expecting?" She asked dryly, the Dwarf shrugged "Someone taller, maybe blonde, ethereal, maybe." He said and Annabelle scowled as he laughed and held up his hands in mock defence "Not to say you aren't pretty, your Majesty."

Annabelle snorted, "Stop calling me that." Anders gave her a suspicious look "Why?" He asked and she frowned "Because I'd like not to draw attention to myself at the moment." It was true, Annabelle was a fine name to be called, and otherwise her parents wouldn't have of given it to her. And it was as common as John. "Does your husband know you're in Kirkwall?" he asked, his expression deadpanned as she shrugged "More-or-less?" Annabelle said, trying to sound nonchalant about it.

Anders got an angry crinkle in his brow, a look of disbelief on his face.

"More-or-less, she says. Like she's talking about the weather and _not_ a _King_." He said, hands flinging in the air as though exasperated "Does it matter?" Annabelle asked, annoyed and Anders delivered her a lazy shrug of his shoulders "Not unless he comes barging into the city with his army looking for his lost Queen, no, not at all!" He chirped and Annabelle grunted, "It's _fine_." She said, lifting a hand and waving it dismissively.

The Dwarf, who had been silent during her and Anders little scene was watching them with amusement. "So you _do_ know her? Interesting." He said and Annabelle shrugged "Unfortunately. Alistair conscripted him into the Grey Wardens because of his many escape attempts from the Circle in Ferelden. Then he apparently faked his death." She said and the Dwarf arched a brow, being delivered another lazy shrug from Anders. "So, can someone tell me what happened?" Annabelle asked, a bit fuzzy on the details and now that she was fully coherent.

The Dwarf chuckled "_Someone_ cracked a bottle of ale over your head, afraid you were going to scratch the face off the man who had accused your "husband" of stealing from him, the Bartender said you asked about the Champion then started a bar brawl, so I managed to drag you upstairs, I was speaking to Anders about something and he said he recognized you." The Dwarf said "As the Hero and Queen of Ferelden, I didn't believe him right away, of course. Now I wonder why someone of your station is looking for our dear Hawke." He sounded pretentious, it was kind of annoying "You're Varric?" She asked dryly, the Dwarf who loved to tell over-exaggerated tales of the Champion of Kirkwall.

Nodding his head he settled back into his chair, Annabelle shifting her weight before shaking her head "Where is Champion Hawke?" She asked and Anders frowned "Why?" He asked and she looked at him "Why do you need to know?" She tossed back, watching a scowl crease his face, Varric chuckling "Don't mind him, your Majesty, he's just upset she isn't returning his letters." Confused Annabelle eyed him before her hand flew to her mouth "You!" She yelped and he jumped.

"Me?" he asked and she scowled "You're the Apostate who had an affair with the Champion and was spared by her hand when he blew up the Chantry!" that sure was a mouthful since she took a gasp of breath into her body and he looked offended "Affair? We were together thank you very much!" He snapped and Annabelle lifted a hand, groaning "Of course. You'd blow up the Chantry, just like how you'd escape a Circle a thousand times. This was why they took your cat away." Annabelle said with an exasperated sigh and Anders frowned "Oh, be quiet!" he snapped and turned away, pouting.

Varric laughed and shook his head "You two traveled together?" Annabelle nodded her head "For a little while, yes. And you're probably the cleanest Dwarf I've ever seen and the first one without a beard. Since the only other two I've traveled with was… Oghren and a woman who was part of your Legion of the Dead." Anders shuddered "I don't miss that foul-smelling creature." Of which Annabelle assumed he was referring to Oghren.

Varric merely shrugged his beefy shoulders and studied her.

"So, why _do_ you need Hawke?" He asked and Annabelle dropped her gaze "A couple of years ago I tracked down an old companion of mine and she told me something, it sort of stuck with me and now with what's going on with the Mages and the Templars—" She cast a foul look at Anders who returned it "— I wanted to get to the bottom of what she could have meant, I couldn't ask my husband, he's kind of King at the moment, so I thought of the Champion, I've heard great things. Then I got here and now I don't know what I was thinking." She said, voice drawl.

"I see, well, the last I heard she was visiting the Dalish camp up on Sundermount. She took an elf with her by the name of Fenris, can't miss him. Brooding, quiet and has white tattoos." Fenris? Sounded simple enough "That's great, thank you." She said before Anders scoffed, tossing an angry scowl at Varric "Why would you tell her that? You should keep her here and wait for whoever might be looking for her or send her back to Ferelden." Annabelle looked at him "Didn't the Dwarf tell you where she was? Hm, I can't see why she'd be angry at you, even though you did nothing more then you know, blow up the _Chantry_!" She tossed back and his cheeks turned a violent shade of red "I can turn you into a frog, you know." Annabelle shrugged "And I can stab you in the face." She snapped.

For several moments they remained silent as Varric cleared his throat and got up, excusing himself, no doubt to give either Anders or Annabelle a moment.

Looking back at the Apostate Annabelle frowned "I'm sorry." She murmured it wasn't the first time she's knocked heads with the Mage, especially during their travels when he was known for _running away_ at the most inconvenient time. Then faking his death so he wouldn't be chased down anymore.

Anders would have remained silent "I did what was right for the Mages, the Templars here were barbaric, whether it be because of Meredith's possession of that stupid Idle or because they just were." Nodding her head she spoke "But that's not justice, Anders. That's revenge, and it's still wrong." She murmured and the Mage whirled on her, eyes sparking blue and she recoiled from him, a look of shock on her face.

"By the Maker, what did you do?" She asked, eyes wide and he calmed "Justice, he—" Annabelle's expression turned distraught "Justice is inside of you?" She asked and he nodded "He's not Justice anymore, is he?" She asked and Anders nodded "You corrupted him?" She asked again and he replied with the same, curt nod of his head "He's a demon of Vengeance now." Anders replied.

It made sense, all though she was sceptical about it.

Bowing her head Annabelle would have pushed herself off from where they had laid her down and she reached out, grasping at the end of his sleeve "I'm sorry, Anders." She murmured and he looked away, she understood.

An awkward silence settled between them, she almost missed his jovial attitude, his nonchalance about everything going on. His quirky banter with the other members of her party during that small amount of time, it was sad, really. "Cheer up," She said before reaching out and playfully slamming her fist into his shoulder, a startled expression on his face as he lifted his hand and rubbed where she had hit him. "No one likes a grump. I'll tell the Champion you miss her." She told him and he gave her a tight smile.

Pulling away she moved to pull her messenger bag up and folded it over her shoulder, making sure it was secure. Annabelle paused by the doorway once she reached it "If anyone comes looking for me, anyone other then Alistair I wasn't here. You don't know where I am, you never saw me. Something's coming, this mess with the Mages and the Templars is only the start. I need the Champion's help and when the time comes? Don't let Justice rule your heart, Anders, it'll end with you in the ground." She told him softly before taking her leave of the room, passing by Varric and sparing him a glance, whether or not he said anything was up to him, since he had no doubt heard the last bit between her and Anders. Annabelle smiled before leaving the Hanged-Man.

One thing was for sure; the trek up Sundermount was enough to give the woman a heart attack, she had been indoors for far too long, walking up hill was brutal. By the time she reached the mouth of what could be considered the top and the land was finally flat— sort of— she hunched over, hands on her knees as she breathed heavily.

"Maker save me!" Annabelle choked, sucking in air harshly before lifting her arms above her head, trying to regain her breath.

A good place for the Dalish to set up camp, the trek up here alone would kill whatever slothenly human would try and bother them! Giving her head a shake she raked her fingers through her bob, shaking out what sweat had gathered, her armour tight around her chest.

Once she had calmed down she looked about, the broken stone to her left indicated to some sort of ruins so withered away even she couldn't tell what it was now, inching closer to it she placed her hand against it, feeling a jolt of something— the Dalish probably stayed here from the magic running through the mountain, the Grey Warden blood already tensing at the feel of something alien pressing against bare skin.

Closing her eyes she took a breath, inhaling dust and the dewy softness of the greenery around her, she wasn't one for nature, how she managed to survive so long in the wilds during the Blight was something to behold.

Or she was just so use to being pampered she forgot what it was like.

Whatever it was Annabelle half wondered what she was going to say to the Champion once she came face-to-face with her, what did people say to her? Aside from the obvious respectful things? Annabelle's brow pinched with frustration. Why was this bothering her so much? Probably because all the respectful people she had met during her time as both a Warden and Queen were somehow related to a Blight and being "Kind" hadn't been in top priority, unless you were Lady Isolde, Annabelle just hated her.

Opening her eyes Annabelle turned her head, spotting the thin ribbons of black smoke that floated upwards, expanding into the dawn, making her wonder how long she had been out at the Hanged-Man. So far she had been away from Ferelden for a day and a half, she already missed it. The Free Marches was a terrible place, or at least Kirkwall was.

Turning away from the ruins she nearly came face-to-face with an Elven man, his shocked expression mirroring Annabelle's, his brows furrowing before he lunged for her, swinging his two-handed sword from his back and aiming for Annabelle's head.

He snarled at her in a language she couldn't even begin to understand as she let out a loud, unlady-like shriek and ducked, his sword nearly slicing clean threw the ruins she had been perched at just mere seconds beforehand.

Holy Maker on a stick! He had nearly cut her head off! Eyes wide she looked in shock to the elf, silvery hair falling over shrubbery coloured hues. The expression on his face was as clear as the day that poured in over the mountainside, _murderous_.

Not having much time to react before the Elf would have aimed to decapitate her Annabelle grabbed for her twin daggers, swinging them up in an X like fashion, catching his blade as he swung it back down at her head, blocking it before pushing against the strain of male muscle and thick metal before Annabelle forced the blade to the side, twisting one dagger in her hand so she was holding the hilt backwards as she slid it up, catching the tip of it in one of the claws that extended from the sword, twisting it from his grasp so both the sword and dagger fell to the ground.

That was until the Elf's hand seemed to glow blue, becoming nearly transparent and he stabbed it at her, nearly catching her in the gullet as Annabelle lurched back, dropping her second dagger before he was on the offence, coming at her with both hands glowing blue, she had a feeling that if she allowed him to touch her that'd be the end of it.

Darting backwards Annabelle would have used her fingers to slam his wrists away, allowing brief contact and feeling the sharp tingles from those blue tinted hands to dart up her arms, making them feel numb, not a good sign! Darting away from the Elf she used the remaining walls of the ruins to her advantage, having learned to be quick on her feet long ago Annabelle would have moved, catching on a broken piece of stone and swinging herself up in twin to rocket down, landing a kick square to the Elf's jaw, sending him sprawling to the earth below.

Once he hit the ground she would have caught herself before the fall, landing in a low-crouch before snagging one of her daggers into a low barrel-roll, catching the Elf's wrist before he rolled over her, catching her wrist with the dagger while the two seemed to fight for control, wiggling and spewing grass and dirt in their wake.

Annabelle's brow furrowed, anger pulsating in her veins as she stared into the face of her potential killer, the white tattoos on his body seemingly glowing with every movement. Getting one of her legs free she would have wrapped it around his waist, forcing her smaller weight against him, pushing against him before reaching up and slamming her head into his, causing a moment of distraction as pain immediately blossomed behind her eyes.

It was enough of a distraction for her to roll them over, straddling the elf she angled the blade at his throat, both heaving and dirty as she pressed the dagger harder against the skin, until a thin line of blood beaded against her blade. The look on his face was death; she could tell just her being at a close proximity bothered him.

"Is that how the Dalish greet guests in the Free Marches?" Annabelle asked, earning a look of confusion, but he refused to speak, irritating her further "Speak! Unless your tongue is removed from your maw I'm sure you can, Elf." She snapped the look on his face was utter defiance. He wouldn't say a thing and if she let her guard down he'd use his blue-hand trick and no doubt kill her, everything about him screamed murderer.

She was at a stalemate "I'm not here to hurt the Dalish, I'm looking for someone." She told him, his expression never wavering and the tense way his body laid out before he remained the same, and before she could go any longer into her explanation she felt the bitter chill of magic at her back.

Tensing she felt the tip of a staff press at the back of her neck, sending unexpected jolts up and down her spine, "Careful." The voice behind her replied, "One foul movement and I'll sever your head from your body." It said again, a woman's voice, a confident woman's voice.

"Fenris, are you alright?" It asked and Annabelle stiffened, her eyes sweeping over the Elf before realising who he was, a name to a face. "As in the Champion's companion Fenris?" Annabelle asked, earning the first, alien expression from the elf, which was a suspicious quirk of his brow and the woman behind her shifted her weight "What of it?" She seethed and Annabelle turned her head slightly, catching a brief moment of her appearance from the corner of her eye "I'm here seeking the Champion Sarah Hawke of Kirkwall." The Cousland Noble said.

And what she got was the angrily confused expression of the Champion.

Looking back down to the Elf she spoke "Your companion attacked me, probably thinking I was a threat, which I am not. I need to speak to you, lower your staff and I'll lower my dagger with the assurance your friend won't stab his magical hands through me." She said, her voice a deadly calm before the woman made a gesture to the Elf, who looked back at Annabelle with a curt nod of his head.

The moment she dropped her guard she was shoved off, a snarl as a gift and her dagger being kicked away, nowhere in reach and no way could she reach it if both decided to go back against their words and kill her. Looking up she scowled at the Elf, what a friendly, friendly man he was!

Slowly turning around Annabelle pulled herself to her feet, covered in grass, dirt and her hood pulled free of her head she came to face the Champion of Kirkwall.


	4. The Hero and The Champion

Disclaimer: Everything Dragon Age belongs to Bioware.

A/N: Thank you to all those who have read my story, it makes me quite happy. Also, if my characterizations are not up to par let me know, I will do my best to improve it to the best of my ability. If I also laid it on thick I'm sorry, I got a little excited in this chapter, it was enjoyable to me. So, enjoy and please rate and review.

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Chapter Four

Sarah Hawke was plenty of things; stupid was not one of them. Her stay in Kirkwall had taught her survival, to be cunning, sharp and protective of those she deemed worthy of her attention.

Born an Apostate Mage she learned from an early age to be weary of those around her, not everyone found Mages good company, not everyone thought Mages deserved full or even rights among the other people of Thedas.

Maybe that was why she had been so attracted to Anders, his strong will to help the Mages, hating their oppression as much as she did. His attention towards even the finest details helped lure her into it, when she realised that everything had gone wrong it was too late, she craved his touch and her heart beat for him.

His request to "Purge" Justice from his body had been a lie, a foul, vicious lie and worse, he used her to plant a magical bomb in the Chantry, killing innocents, people who didn't deserve his ire, it wasn't just, it was cruel and inhumane.

While Hawke had sided with the mages and helped them usurp the Templars and Meredith, sparing Anders's life out of love and losing Sebastian in the process it caused a revolution all over Thedas, Mages rising up against the Circle and gaining more then their fair share of rights. It was only the start, blood, gore and war was rising, she could see it on the people's faces.

Hawke hadn't been forced from Kirkwall, but she wasn't exactly a favourite person among some of the crowd, they said her siding with the Mages had been biased for herself and her lover, Anders. She could understand their ire towards her, it didn't stop her from taking on the off job, and such as the one she was doing here.

The Dalish needed another ancient creature killed, it was blocking their way to the mountain path, containing and tormenting them at night. One child had already been killed and that was intolerable.

So she accepted, taking Fenris with her, only because the Elf was a strong tank and having bonded to him the few weeks after Anders betrayal.

Staring into the fire she barely noticed Fenris take a seat beside her, as sombre as ever he didn't say anything, the two sitting in a companionable silence, it was better this way. A confrontation between them hadn't ended as awkwardly as she had expected, he was a pleasant distraction from her irritation and anger at Anders, which she refused to speak of.

Looking back at him Hawke would have sighed, earning her a questioning look "Nothing." She said and Fenris bowed his head, staring at the fire as embers sparked, unsure of what to say. By the Maker this was awkward. Looking towards the tips of the mountains he spied dawn crawling its way up "Dawn is coming, best we return to Kirkwall, the Dalish are uncomfortable with us around." He drawled out and Hawke nodded her head, "I know." She told him.

They just seemed to sit like that forever, sleep strangely absent, their purses heavier and the silence a slice between awkward and comfortable.

Standing Fenris would have turned, leaving towards the mouth of the Dalish camp and rim of the mountain path leading down Sundermount. Hawke didn't question what he was doing, she rarely did.

Even after all this time he could still be so broody and stoic, which was fine. Comedy having been lost on their little group as of late. Once alone Hawke was left along to her own thoughts, which forever traveled back to Anders, she was avoiding him. Changing the locks, ignoring his letters and those who would speak on his behalf— they weren't many, plenty of people were right ticked at him for what he had done to the Chantry.

Bowing her head into her hands she raked her fingers through her hair angrily, nails scrapping against her scalp, giving an insufferable sigh she looked up, wondering what could possibly be taking Fenris so long to return from whatever it was the Elf was doing.

Growing impatient Hawke would have stood, lifting her hands, fingers spread and extinguishing the fire, leaving little to no traces of their presence at the Dalish camp as Hawke left, thinking maybe Fenris was possibly waiting for her to sulk then come find him so they could leave back to Kirkwall.

The closer she got to where she was sure Fenris was the more of a ruckus she heard, making her worry. Did the creature they killed know how to resurrect itself? It wouldn't be the first time she had seen that in this stupid mountain, hurrying she came upon a sight she had not been expecting.

A woman— a hooded woman straddling Fenris, at first she thought it might have been one of the Dalish women at the camp, she had noticed their curious, transfixed glances at her companion. Hawke couldn't blame him, Fenris was appealing, in a sad, kicked macho puppy way and that was part of his charm. But it wasn't just that, the closer she got she heard the woman saying something— her voice hurried and angry and the soft glint of a blade making Hawke tense.

_A slaver!_ Her mind screamed, immediately making her leap into action, whipping the staff from it's carrier on her back Hawke pressed the tip against the back of the woman's neck, making her tense "Careful," Hawke warned, voice cold as her eyes flickered to Fenris, his expression unreadable.

"One foul movement and I'll sever your head from your body." The threat was clear, as was the confidence in her voice. The woman turned her head, trying her best to get a good look at her from the corner of her eye "Fenris," She asked, "Are you alright?" He gave her an off look it meant he was. Six years together and she could read his expressions, good, bad and indifferent. The woman turned back to the elf "Fenris?" She asked, drawing his attention back, "As in the Champion's companion, Fenris?" She asked again and Fenris' look turned suspicious— guarded and it mirrored Hawke's perfectly.

"What of it?" She snapped losing what little patience she had to a possible threat to her companion and exhaustion from the job.

"I'm here seeking the Champion of Kirkwall."

Hawke's expression turned dark, threatening.

"Your companion attacked me, no doubt thinking I was a threat, which I am not. I need to speak to you, lower your staff and I'll lower my dagger with the assurance that your friend won't stab his magical hands through me." She said, voice light, laced with a sardonic tone. Looking back to Fenris Hawke quirked a brow, as though asking for his permission to lower her weapon, to ask for a moment of peace between the trio.

All she got as a curt nod of his head and Hawke pulled her staff away, ramming the butt into the soft soil, watching the girl pull her dagger away gave Fenris the opportune chance to throw her off him, like a sack of potato's.

Hawke watched in amusement as he wrestled the dagger from her and kicked it to the side once it had dropped, coming to her side. His face murderous as she reached out, touching his forearm with a silent question of assuredly on his safety and well-being.

Catching the brief softening of his eyes and what could have been a shadow of a smile curling the ends of that pillowy mouth while the unknown woman leaped to her feet, trying to look imposing, covered in dirt, grass and looking about as clean as the homeless in Dark-Town. Pulling her hand away Hawke moved to face the woman, whose hood was drawn back, giving her a good view of her face.

This was where it began.

Both women swept quizzical looks over once another.

Annabelle drank in the Champion's appearance, everything a well-toned warrior should be. Tall and lithe her frame accented by a minimal amount of curves added to an athletic body. A head of dark hair, cropped short and falling into her face, set off by a long nose, full mouth and blue eyes framed by exotically doe-slanted eyes.

Feeling self-conscious Annabelle fiddled in her spot, the silence deafening as Hawke cleared her throat. "Why are you looking for me?" She asked, dragging Annabelle's attention back to the current situation at hand before taking a step towards Hawke, making Fenris tense.

"I need your assistance, Champion Hawke!" She declared, earning a quirked brow from the other woman "Why? What would a lowly merchant have with me?" She asked, Annabelle, offended scowled "I'm no merchant!" She snapped, crossing her arms over her chest, hip cocked and face a look of malevolence.

"Then who are you and what do you want with me?" Hawke asked, more firmly this time, watching a sudden shift in the unknown woman's attitude, her body stiffened and took on a more authoritive, superior demeanour.

"My name is Annabelle Cousland Theirin. The Hero of Ferelden and the Queen. I request your assistance in a quest."

Silence.

More silence.

The look on Hawke's face turned sceptical.

_Whaaaaaaaaaaaat!_

No way! She didn't believe it! The woman who stood before her couldn't be the Hero of Ferelden!

Why? Because this wasn't the image conjured up by the stories of her heroic adventures to stop the Fifth Blight.

The Queen and Hero of Ferelden was suppose to be an ethereal beauty, long hair, adorned in armour fit for a Hero and a serious face that could rival a Qunari's. And as Hawke swept another glance over the woman, taking in her appearance the look of scepticism seemed to intensify.

Instead, what she got was a woman who was at least three inches shorter then herself, so well rounded in the hips she resembled a pear. Impish and doe like features, a head of messily cropped chestnut-auburn hair and hyacinth blue eyes. The only disfiguring thing she could see were the two, jagged, thin scars that ran from the woman's lower lip down at a slant to the curve of her jaw leading to her chin, otherwise childish and pixie like and no where near what she expected a _Hero_ and _Queen_ to look like!

Annabelle took in her incredulous expression and looked twice as offended at being called a _merchant. _What the hell did everyone picture her as? It was starting to wear against her patience and nerves "You don't believe me, do you?" Annabelle asked dryly and Hawke shook her head "No."

"Well, you should!" She snapped.

"Why? Because you say so?" Hawke countered.

"Because I have no reason to lie? Just because I don't fit the image in your mind doesn't mean I'm lying!" Annabelle snapped.

The two warred back and forth, Fenris watching with mild fascination, a pale brow quirked and the faintest crinkle in his forehead expressing an idle amusement.

"Prove it!" Hawke said and Annabelle faltered. She had expected the Champion to accept her words, nothing else. So pausing in her thoughts she gasped, mouth forming into an 'o' and she fumbled about, tugging at her collar before exposing her neck, pulling what looked like an amulet, tied around her neck before moving to untie it and toss it to Hawke, who caught it and held it up.

Letting the piece of jewellery face the sunlight she caught what looked like blood encased in the gem— dirty, black blood. Looking back at the proud woman she arched a brow "What's this? Blood Magic?" Hawke asked, instantly alert, Fenris, taking a threatening step foreword "You do Blood Magic?" He asked, voice scathing and Annabelle looked confused.

"What? No! Maker." She sighed, holding her hand out for it "When you become a Grey Warden you're given some of the Darkspawn taint in the form of an amulet, a sign—" Annabelle paused "Well, I'm not actually suppose to tell anyone anything. There may not be many Grey Warden's but they are picky on what they allow the general public to know," She said dryly.

Hawke looked at Fenris "We have a Grey Warden in our company, I don't recall ever seeing him with a pendent like that?" She pointed out and Annabelle scoffed, waving a hand "Anders faked his death at Vigil's Keep. Why would he want it? He became a Grey Warden to keep from having a Templar drag him back to the Circle in Ferelden. Always on the run, doing _ridiculous_ things," Annabelle trailed off, surprise on Hawke's face "You know Anders?" She asked and Annabelle sighed "Unfortunately. It was Alistair who agreed fully on having him conscripted. We traveled together for a time, he was funnier then." A side she doubt Hawke had ever seen to the truest extend Annabelle had.

Giving her head a shake she flung her hands about "Look!" She snapped "I don't have time for this, I am who I say I am," She said, digging into the sleeve of her cloak, flinging what looked like a badge at Hawke "It's the Cousland crest, the only other person to have this is my older brother, Fergus." She said, exasperated.

"I think it would be wise to listen to what I have to say, Champion. I can monologue about my mighty adventures for hours, it comes with old age, you see. Telling the young about my days as a Hero, slaying Darkspawn and bedding the handsome and chaste." Annabelle paused, giggling at the same, off-beat incredulous expression on Hawke's face "I will bore you and your Elf to death, I assure you of that. Or we can go and speak to Anders about whom I am, he clarified it for that Dwarf, Varric who told me where I could find you." She pointed out before reaching out, having both her family crest and pendent back in her hand.

"Varric told you where to find me?" Hawke asked curiously, leading Annabelle to nod her head "He said I could find the Champion on Sundermount, helping the Dalish with the help of an elf named Fenris." She said, gesturing to the male who had been pretty much silent this entire time.

"Fair-haired and broody." She commented, the rims of his ears turning red in anger and embarrassment as he scowled "Did the Dwarf tell you to say that? I do not _brood._" He seethed and Annabelle inched away from him "What? N-No… _Of course_ you don't brood. I meant brood, like a _group_." A poor save and the irritated expression on his face told her he saw right threw her poor excuse.

Hawke was cross between being mildly amused and annoyed, for a moment she let herself delve into the idea that this _woman _was indeed the Hero and Queen of Ferelden, this short, pear shaped and obnoxious woman. That meant she couldn't exactly deny her, she stopped the Blight, she slayed the Archdemon.

But why her? What of her husband? What of her companions? From Hawke's own journey she had encountered her fair share of the Warden's companions, why not go to them and not the Champion of Kirkwall? A place that wasn't even Ferelden? Hawk had so many questions for her, it was unreal.

Holding her hands up she spoke "Alright, for the Maker's sake we'll say I believe you, why did you bother coming to seek me out? It isn't as though you're lacking in companions all over Thedas, you've made a name for yourself." She said, leaving Annabelle to contemplate it "Because you're like me. You rose from the ashes of being torn from your home and made a name for yourself. You helped set free the Mages of Kirkwall from the harsh tyranny of the Templars, I may have been stuck in that Castle, carting around the legend of an image that apparently is nothing like me, but don't think I haven't heard the tales of what you did, if there was anyone to help me it would be you."

The look on Annabelle's face was sincere, everything about her _was_ sincere. Hawke was taken aback by the child-like expectancy the Hero had for her, it was flattering in a very… toddler like sense.

Looking to Fenris the two studied each other, sending private messages back and forth, leaving Annabelle oblivious to it before Fenris turned back, speaking to the Warden "Don't you think it's asinine to seek out a person you have never met based on the legend she has made for herself?" He asked, leaving Annabelle to frown "Legends, stories, history and fantasy is what makes up what we are, Elf. People cling to the legends and history because if they lack in believing anything it leaves them dreadfully empty. I believe that she can help me, if I were to rely on anyone it would be her, unless you think your friend incompetent?" She asked, tossing it back in his face, making him scowl.

"Not what I was implying." He said curtly, turning to face Hawke who offered him a ghost of a smile "What exactly could I do?" She asked, azure eyes focusing on her as Annabelle turned away "A few years back I tracked down a former companion of mine— Morrigan." The name ringing a brief bell with Hawke "She had managed to repair a mirror called the Eluvian—" Interrupted by the scowl on Hawke's face "What is with people and that blasted mirror?" She asked, leaving Annabelle confused.

"A companion of mine, a Dalish Elf name Merrill wanted to repair it to try and bring back a bit of culture to her people, regardless of the pleading of her Keeper, who ended up dying either way." Annabelle grew silent "Well… that's… harsh?" Unsure of what to say, Fenris choosing that moment to snort, disgust clear on his face "The witch was as ignorant as her use of magic." Annabelle looked to Hawke who shook her head, stilling the Warden's tongue, keeping her from commenting.

Back to the topic at hand "She told me this mirror was a portal to different gate-ways. She used it to take herself somewhere, I want to go there. To find her, she told me something I honestly wished I hadn't heard." Aside from her saying that she and Alistair's son was perfectly fine. "She told me change was coming to Thedas, at first I didn't think much of it, she had always been pretty evasive with the truth. But seeing everything now, with the Mages rebelling and the Templars following suit and Orlais being unstable. If a war breaks out the Chantry might do another march, pushing everyone either into submission or pull genocide as an option to purge the unclean." She told them.

She had no doubt in her mind that the world was crumbling, that everything had somehow been tainted and the side with the most cards would use it for power and dominate over all, she couldn't let Ferelden— any place in Thedas fall until an unclear rule.

"Another was Morrigan's mother, Flemeth—"

"You mean the Witch of the Wilds?" Hawke asked and watched Annabelle's expression turn guarded "Yes, the Witch of the Wilds, why? Have you met her?" She asked and Hawke nodded her head "Once, when me and my family were fleeing Lothering to come to Kirkwall and once when I dropped off the amulet she gave me to give to the Dalish—"

Startled by the horrified expression on Annabelle's face the girl looked about. By the Maker! Morrigan had been right, she should have taken into consideration that Flemeth had survived for _years_, body snatching or who knows what else!

Annabelle couldn't believe her stupidity, "The amulet she asked you to give to the Dalish, how long after fleeing Lothering had that been?" She asked, voice soft as Hawke thought about it "A year, maybe a year and a half after the Blight ended, why?" Hawke asked, watching the colour drain from Annabelle's face "Me and a few others in my party killed Flemeth during the Blight. As a favour to Morrigan. She turned into a Dragon and me and three others fought her back, killed her and delivered her spell book too Morrigan." Oh, she felt sick.

Hawke's brows rose "You couldn't have, she was perfectly fine when we spoke." Spoke? They _spoke_? Annabelle sliced the distance between herself and Hawke, startling Fenris to slid his hand under her arm, gripping her back as though he were afraid she would hurt the Champion "I need to know what you said." She said, rushed before shrugging off his touch, scowling at the Elf.

Hawke thought about it "That I carried her to the Free Marches, that the world was on the brink of change, that when the time came I shouldn't hesitate to take the leap. She had an appointment and couldn't come herself, she didn't want to be "Followed", whatever that meant— H-Hey, you look ill." Hawke said, noticing the ghastly colour she was.

"I'm fine, go on." Well, now she had cause to worry. Flemeth was alive, she could go after Morrigan— her son, who from her knowledge had the soul of an Old God. Yeah, she felt as ill as she probably looked.

Taking calming breaths she looked at Hawke who was confused and kept tossing confused glances to Fenris who seemed stoic about this entire ordeal. Regaining her focus she looked back at them "What are the chances of your friend Merrill giving me her Eluvian?" She asked, earning her a look of disgust from Fenris.

"Slim to none it won't work and she won't let me near it, we're not on good terms. I have a tool given to me by the previous Keeper and I refused to hand it over, for obvious reasons, why?" She asked suspiciously "Because I want to go threw the mirror and to be able to return, the mirror Morrigan used could only be used once more, I need to see if I can't find Morrigan, or Flemeth." She said, earning her a look of confusion.

"Flemeth, I take it is the bad guy on this journey?" She asked, earning her a shrug of Annabelle's shoulders "She could be, all I know is that I was warned for change and the world is changing and not for the good. And I was warned against Flemeth, who is no Abomination or Blood-Mage, she's in an entirely different class and considering she's been alive for centuries she's high on that list." Annabelle said, bowing her head and rubbing at the arch of her brow with her finger "Would the Dalish here tell you of where we can find another Eluvian?" She asked.

Hawke pondered it "Possibly, they won't speak to me, maybe Fenris?" She said, looking to her Elven friend who didn't even bother to respond before he was making his way back to the Dalish camp. "Quite the friend you have there." She remarked, earning a bashful look from Hawke "Yes, well spending an abundant amount of years with someone will do that." She told Annabelle, whose mouth curled into a sly smile.

"I've heard that Elves are quite flexible, I can only imagine how well he can… ahem." Her voice lowering before giving a distinct waggle of her brows to the Champion who gave her a deadpanned stare.

"You're quite the lecher, aren't you?"

"You have no proof of that."

"Right, weren't you worried about an oncoming doom just a few seconds ago?"

"I still am, right now I'm trying to make sure I don't hyperventilate myself into a coma. This is a lot to take in, imagine all the small things you've learned only to relearn that everything could come crashing down. It's not pleasant mind you."

"I know the feeling."

The two seemed to fall into a silence, merely shuffling their feet in awkward silence, unsure of what to say to each other, really. Hawke would have eyed the Hero, probably one of the more bizarre people Hawke had the pleasure of meeting. She didn't know if the girl was honestly laying it on thick because she maybe craved adventure? But it couldn't be a coincidence that both had met Flemeth, that they had gotten the same warning from two people who were connected and therefore connecting their destinies.

In what felt like forever Hawke spotted Fenris coming back down the path leading from the Dalish camp, that same old stoic expression on his effeminate face. She couldn't tell on whether or not they had given any sort information to the elf.

Annabelle held her breath as Fenris met them at the base of the little pathed hill, his head bowed as he shook his head "The only one willing to speak to me was that elf woman who had the half-breed son, she said there's a Dalish camp by Antiva City who might have a clue to a working Eluvian. That was all I got before they banished me from the camp, I don't think you'll be helping them again, Hawke." He said, making Hawke chuckle "They didn't really want my help from the start," She said, earning a broken smile from the elf.

Looking back to Annabelle who lifted her head to the dawn-crested sky "Antiva?" Came the rhetorical murmur, looking back to Hawke she held her hand out, a silent agreement in a partnership— to get to the bottom of the information shared between them.

Reaching out Hawke gripped Annabelle's hand, somehow feeling as though she had just signed a deal with the devil. But she was determined to get the bottom of this, since she had always thought it was odd and now this was her chance to finally understand what he witch had meant.

"Antiva."


	5. Right and Wrong

Disclaimer: Bioware owns everything Dragon Age.

A/N: Thank you all so much, for your reviews and reading my story, it keeps the updates as frequent as they are able. I hope you continue to enjoy where I'm going with this story.

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Chapter Five

"You're insufferable!" Hawke shrieked, infuriated by her latest traveling companion.

Everything about the Hero of Ferelden made her want to gnash her teeth and more, she was frustrating, loud and had to have her way, the Nobel breeding showed through every aspect and bled threw every pore.

The two stood across from one another, expressions mirroring their aggravation at one another. Cousland who thought she was correct to the Champion, who knew the Free Marches for having spent nearly a decade running through the vast hills, the rims of the coast and the back roads that lead from Kirkwall.

They were at a stalemate; they were at a roadblock, a wall that would seem to forever separate them from getting along.

It was then the two women had jumped to one conclusion.

They _really_ didn't like each other.

An instant dislike that lead to a hasty rivalry.

"I'm not insufferable, I'm right. We need to cut threw Starkhaven and stick to the main road." Annabelle told her.

Hawke would have raked a hand through her short hair, messing it further, making her look mad instead of frustrated "We take the back roads because it's safer. Bandits stalk and poach the travelers who take the main road. We would do far better taking the back-paths." Hawke stressed.

Annabelle wasn't going to accept that "It takes a shorter time if we take the main road, cut through Starkhaven and cut the trip to Antiva city in half by three days then what you're suggesting. We take the back roads it'll take a week time isn't exactly a luxury we can afford at the moment!" She snapped, earning her a vicious scowl.

"From my understanding you waited years before even acting on what you were told by your companion! What will a week cause? Aside from a headache from your constant whining!" Hawke snarled, as the Cousland's face fell into an offended, angry scowl.

"That was before you allowed your lover to blow up the Chantry and caused a shock wave of revolutions around Thedas!" She said, taking the other woman aback.

Oh! That was the final straw. Hawke pulled her staff from the clasp at her backside, pointing it at Annabelle who drew her twin daggers and perched in a defensive stance.

"Let us settle this!"

_A day prior._

The trek down Sundermount had been quiet, nothing more then the idle prattle between Fenris and Hawke, Annabelle listening in. Confused and visually prying into their business by watching them.

So… she was with Anders, but not but sleeping with the moody Elf.

_Interesting_.

The Champion of Kirkwall had an awkward triangle of love, how sweet. Also confusing considering the Champion refused to act on the subtle advances of the Elf, maybe it was because Annabelle was present? Even though you wouldn't think so, every time she said something it was ignored or Fenris gave some foul quip, leaving the Cousland wanting to shove him off the slope of the mountain.

Reaching Hawke's estate had been easy enough, people stared and greeted her, ignoring her mostly, which bothered her and relieved her at the same time.

No one would notice the hooded figure; they were too absorbed in either cursing or loving the Champion's name.

Opening the door the Elf girl Annabelle had seen the day before greeted them, she smiled and bowed her head "Welcome home." She chirped, spotting Annabelle and her mouth forming into an 'o' and she wiggled her fingers at the Elf "I found her." The Cousland sang, happy that she had, it had been quite the trip just to get here.

Orana nodded and giggled, sidestepping before a white Mabari leaped about them, excited to see Hawke's return. Gasping Annabelle made her way to the Mabari who paused; peeled back it's upper lip and snarled at her. Hawke turned "Easy, Rabbit." She cooed, coaxing the hound into a calmer stupor as Annabelle held her hand out.

"You have a Mabari? Aren't they fabulous?" Annabelle said, smiling broadly as Rabbit came over to sniff at her fingers, his maw parting and she felt the slippery, sponge feel of his tongue lapping at her hand, making her giggle before kneeling down "You just make me miss my Bricks!" She cooed before lifting a hand to scratch the beast behind his large, triangular ears.

"You called your Mabari Bricks?" Orana asked, genuinely curious as Annabelle nodded her head "My father got him for me when I turned ten, the cutest little beast I've ever seen. He tormented my Nan from the start he did. Was with me throughout Highever being stolen by the Howe's and throughout the entire Blight!" She said, scratching under his chin before Rabbit moved to fall against Annabelle's knees, making her stumble before she laughed.

Hawke shook her head, chuckling before she turned to Orana "I'm going on a trip, Orana. You will be staying with Fenris while I'm away, to keep you protected, and he will take good care of you. You are still free to live in the Estate by yourself if you wish." She said, moving to dig into the sleeve of her rob and handed the girl a pouch "This will keep you fed for quite sometime." She told her.

While Hawke and Orana spoke, no doubt covering all the basis Annabelle slunk to Fenris side, briefly catching the softened, affectionate expression cross over those effeminate features before she smiled a sly smile "You're going to miss her, aren't you?" She prodded lightly, Fenris being no taller then herself turned, a brow quirking "Don't you miss the one you abandoned for the sake of this quest?" He asked.

Annabelle scowled "I didn't abandon Alistair, this also isn't the first time I've completed a duty in the name of my people. Being Queen doesn't mean I sit around to look good." She said he shook his head "I think you misunderstand, Theirin. You very well could be chasing a tall-tale, told to you by a witch. Then it would leave you looking foolish and wasted your time, Hawke's time and the time of the people you could be worrying by vanishing like you did." He said and Annabelle scowled "How do you know I didn't tell my husband where I went?" She asked and Fenris gave her a drawl stare "Because he would have either came with you or given you more protection. You keep your hood drawn up in populated areas where you think you might be recognized— doubtful because you look nothing like what people expect you too." He said, and going on and on, leaving Annabelle's expression to fall.

"Anyone ever tell you that blunt attitude of yours isn't flattering?" She asked snidely, an amused, ghost of a smile curling at the corners of his mouth "It is not meant to be flattering." He told her, looking at her for a moment before those eyes flickered back to Hawke.

"But yes, I miss my husband, and my dog. I miss Ferelden. My brother Fergus had recently gotten remarried and she's expecting from what I'm told. But I don't think I'm chasing a tall-tale. Call me overly sensitive but I believe something is coming."

"Then if that is what you believe."

"You're incredibly frustrating, anyone ever tell you that?"

"All the time."

Hawke looked back to Fenris and Annabelle, who looked like she was about to throttle the Elf, for whatever reason. Shaking her head she spoke up "You can stay here for the night, replenish what you need, Cousland we leave at dawn." And Annabelle nodded her head "All right." She said before leaving, right out the door.

Looking at Fenris she made her way to him once they were alone in the foyer, eyes meeting she offered him a shadow of a smile "Everything will be fine, Fenris. I will return." She said softly, watching his brows pinch, mouth fixed in a tight line "What makes you think I'm worried, Hawke?" He asked softly, voice cold.

Quirking a brow she smiled "Because when you worry in your brooding, silent way your forehead gets a winkle, right here—" Lifting her hand as though to show the Elf where said winkle was before he caught her wrist, the metal of his gloves digging into the skin on her wrist.

Hawke watched him, his face carefully stoic of any and all emotion as Hawke's brows furrowed "Fenris—" Being cut off by the sudden pressure of his mouth against her own. Draping his arm around her waist Fenris pulled her flush against him, his hand still clutching her wrist as he held her close.

Annabelle would kicked her feet back and forth, bowl in hand as she spoke "So, you can give him the letter when you see him?" She asked, Anders looking up scowled "Do I look like your errand boy? And I thought you didn't want anyone knowing you were here? Doesn't that sort of make you a hypocrite? I remember you being strict." He asked and she shrugged "What can I say? I miss him, so I'll leave bits and pieces where I can." She told him and Anders shuffled about.

"Why haven't you left Kirkwall yet?" She asked, making the Apostate pause as he shrugged, ignoring her question.

"How do you even know he'll come looking for you? He probably thinks you ran off with a younger man."

"Alistair's still pretty, even pushing thirty, you, on the other hand. Time hasn't been so kind to you, Anders." She quipped, earning her another murderous scowl.

"Oh, calm down. Maker's Breath you're so moody now." She said, waving her hand before picking up the folded letter at her side and wiggled it in front of him.

"Please, Anders?" She asked, poking her lower lip out and looking as heartbroken as she could before he snatched the letter away from her, snarling, "Fine." He said, pouting before she smiled and went back to the Kirkwall gruel being fed to her. Smiling all the way as she studied him.

He _was_ serious, having Justice inside of him turned off his sense of humour. Looking back at her he frowned "What?" Annabelle shrugged "Are you going to say goodbye to Hawke before we leave?" She asked and he turned his head away, mouth pressed into an angry line "She doesn't want to see me, Annabelle. Leave it alone, it's none of your business." Anders told her, turning back to what he was doing.

Nodding her head she bent her head, studying the grey, paste like gruel "Thank you, Anders." She murmured, grateful. She knew Alistair would find a way to her letter, he was a smart cookie, and she had faith.

Dawn swelled over the thin lines of the mountain, basking Kirkwall in an uneven tower of shadows and Hawke and Cousland were already on the mountain path leading away from the wounded Coast to go around Sundermount.

That was when the problems had begun.

The silence was uncomfortable, like a wall that couldn't exactly be broken down. The soft crunch of the foliage cracking underneath their feet was the only company they had, the sun warm on their backs.

Unable to stand the silence and thirsting for an ounce of human communication Annabelle spoke "So…" She said, trailing off as Hawke looked at her "So?" She asked, not picking a topic, she was fine with the silence, no matter how uncomfortable it was.

"You and Fenris," Hawke rolled her eyes "This again? I refuse to tell you how flexible he is. Why not tell me how flexible your _husband_ is?" She countered and watching Annabelle's stoic expression let her feel a small thread of satisfaction she managed to shut the Cousland's provocative behaviour up.

Annabelle pursed her lips "Do you _really_ want to know?" She asked and Hawke grunted and uncharacteristically slammed her palm into her forehead "No." She snapped, glowering at Annabelle's smug expression "You need to lighten up, Hawke. Don't you ever have fun? We're women, it's alright to share our intimacy secrets." She had done it with Leliana all the time, much to Alistair's displeasure.

"I have plenty of fun, but I don't want to delve into a personal matter with someone I barely know." She told her, making the other woman scoff "How can you say "barely" after hearing everything about a person, all the tales that are passed around practically put us as related, as all great Heroes are." She told Hawke, who scrunched her face "I have a sibling, he is quite enough, thank you." Hawke said, making Annabelle chuckle.

She believed Hawke had as much fun as watching paint on a fence dry, poor girl. So political with a biting comment here and there, this was going to be a fun.

When they came to the first crossroads Cousland barely even noticed where she was going, a map of the Free Marches did so much; the Wounded Coast was becoming irritating and repetitive. So she turned left, sure it would lead them from the coast to the main path, slicing the time it would take to get Antiva City.

Hawke paused in her steps, scowling "What are you doing?" She asked and Annabelle stopped and turned, frowning "Walking? What does it look like I'm doing?" She asked, perplexed as Hawke shook her head "You're going the wrong way, the right path will take us to the paths leading out the Wounded Coast." She said and Annabelle waved her off "No, this is the right path, the map says so." And without another word took off, leaving a stunned and now annoyed Hawke behind a couple of steps.

It went on like that, the muted silences and the inappropriate questions and the snappy retorts, it was starting to ware on Hawke's nerves, on top of going around in circles because Annabelle thought she knew where she was going.

"Stop," Hawke said, pausing the Cousland in her steps before arching a brow "What?" She asked, confused before Hawke shook her head "We're not following your "map" anymore. Dark is coming and we've been walking in circles, we're stopping for the night then after we'll follow my direction and bring us to the back roads." She was firm in her standing, earning her a soul stare from Annabelle.

"Why would we be taking the back roads? It would take us a week, if not more to reach Antiva City. And I haven't been wrong on where we are going!" Annabelle protested.

"Because the back roads are safer, I don't want to risk being a target. Yes you have! We've done nothing but wander in a circle around the Wounded-Coast all day, we've wasted more time here then we would had we just followed me." Hawke said, growing quickly frustrated with her.

Annabelle sized her up "What makes you think you're right?" She asked and Hawke felt her eye twitch "Because I know these coasts better then you? What in the Andraste's Flaming Sword makes you think _you're_ right?" She asked, truly curious on how far this woman's ego could spread.

"Because I'm always right!"

"You're insufferable!" Hawke shrieked, infuriated by her latest traveling companion.

Everything about the Hero of Ferelden made her want to gnash her teeth and more, she was frustrating, loud and had to have her way, the Nobel breeding showed through every aspect and bled threw every pore.

The two stood across from one another, expressions mirroring their aggravation at one another. Cousland who thought she was correct to the Champion, who knew the Free Marches for having spent nearly a decade running through the vast hills, the rims of the coast and the back roads that lead from Kirkwall.

They were at a stalemate; they were at a roadblock, a wall that would seem to forever separate them from getting along.

It was then the two women had jumped to one conclusion.

They _really_ didn't like each other.

An instant dislike that lead to a hasty rivalry.

"I'm not insufferable, I'm right. We need to cut threw Starkhaven and stick to the main road." Annabelle told her.

Hawke would have raked a hand through her short hair, messing it further, making her look mad instead of frustrated "We take the back roads because it's safer. Bandits stalk and poach the travelers who take the main road. We would do far better taking the back-paths." Hawke stressed.

Annabelle wasn't going to accept that "It takes a shorter time if we take the main road, cut through Starkhaven and cut the trip to Antiva city in half by three days then what you're suggesting. We take the back roads it'll take a week time isn't exactly a luxury we can afford at the moment!" She snapped, earning her a vicious scowl.

"From my understanding you waited years before even acting on what you were told by your companion! What will a week cause? Aside from a headache from your constant whining!" Hawke snarled, as the Cousland's face fell into an offended, angry scowl.

"That was before you allowed your lover to blow up the Chantry and caused a shock wave of revolutions around Thedas!" She said, taking the other woman aback.

Oh! That was the final straw. Hawke pulled her staff from the clasp at her backside, pointing it at Annabelle who drew her twin daggers and perched in a defensive stance.

"Let us settle this!"

"Yes! Lets."

The two stared at each other, weapons drawn and frustration and anger bubbling between them, Annabelle was so sure she was right, Hawke knew she was wrong and trying to point it out was like trying to scream at a wall to move from it's place.

There was only one, easy, reasonable way to settle all of this.

Throwing down their weapons Hawke and Cousland approached one another, fists flung out before they wiggled them back and forth, slamming them into their palms.

"Rock, paper, scissors!"

"Rock, paper, scissors!"

"Rock, paper, scissors!"

"Yes!" Hawke howled, "My rock crushes your scissors!" She chirped, flinging her hands up and giving her hips a little wiggle in a peusdo victory dance. Annabelle flung herself at the nearest tree, hugging it and giving a frustrated sob "Damnit!" She shrieked and whirled on Hawke "Lets do it again!" The Mage shook her head "I don't think so," Hawke told her before inclining her head for Annabelle to follow her "Lets go, before the sun falls any more."

A sore loser Annabelle sulked all the way down the left path, leading up and around, meaning Hawke did know where she was going, it was a sore would and she pouted until Hawke stopped, a smug look on their face as it took exactly thirty minutes too leave the Wounded Coast and right onto the back roads covered in thick forest.

For what felt forever the two women made their way into the thick forestry, the density made it hard for Hawke and Annabelle to see, so they paused "We can set up camp, I can barely see ahead of me." Hawke said and Annabelle nodded before the two quickly set up camp.

A fire blazing they sat beside one another huddled in a little corner of the forest trying to keep warm from night.

"Do you ever miss Ferelden?" Annabelle asked, drawing Hawke's attention away from the fire before she shrugged "I miss it sometimes, but at the same time I can't help but wonder what Lothering is like now, everything I know and love is in Kirkwall, doesn't mean I won't ever want to return, especially because my welcome in Kirkwall might be ending." Hawke told Annabelle softly "I was in Lothering before the Blight hit, it was the closest village to Ostagar and the Kocari Wilds." Hawke arched a brow, half wondering she had seen the Cousland when she was nothing more then a Grey Warden and fallen Nobel.

"Is it true what they said?"

"You need to be more specific, Hawke."

"That Loghain Mac Tir left Cailan Theirin to his doom and you killed him?"

Annabelle's eyes fell as she watched the ambers spark in the fire "I had too. I didn't want too, he left the those Soldiers, the King and the one who had conscripted me and Alistair into the Grey Wardens to die— for us to die." She said softly "And if I didn't Alistair would have, or he would have left," the deaths of their comrades— of his half brother had hit him particular harder then it had Annabelle.

Hawke studied the Cousland's face, startled to finally notice the battle worn tired eyes and the sadness that lurked behind that lecherous, silly attitude she carried around.

This woman, she decided, could be the Hero of Ferelden.

For the first time that day the two sat in comfortable companionable silence, silently dwelling over each other, what they had done over the span of the decade.

Annabelle turned, opening her mouth to speed before an arrow whooshed past her and Hawke, making the Champion jump and leaving Annabelle stunned. "We're under attack!" She shrieked before leaping up, Hawke following similar motion, staff in half before sending an explosion of electricity in the direction where the arrow had come flying, earning them screams of pain and the smouldering smell of burned skin and armour.

Running towards where they found two bandits sprawled the two barely had time to whirl around, catching one with her daggers she gutted him and let him fall, his blood splaying against her face as Hawke lit another one on fire.

"Run!" Annabelle shrieked, turning in time to feel something harsh fall across the side of her head, making pain explode all around, her vision swam before slumping into the cold, hard ground.

"Cousland!" Hawke gasped, moving to take a step to reach the girl before something hard cracked against the back of her head and before long she too saw nothing but black.


	6. The Bandit King

Disclaimer: Everything Dragon Age belongs to Bioware.

A/N: Thank you to those who have read the story and to those who have reviewed. I hope you enjoy the chapter!

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Chapter Six

Hawke's head was throbbing, she felt like she had swallowed a mouthful of rocks, her body heavy and mouth dry and something behind her was squirming heavily.

Groaning she cracked open one gritty eyelid, a curse coming from behind her as Hawke tried to lift her arm to rub at her face, anything to be rid of the grimy feeling she had. When she did try she found herself bound, roped and tied and to another person from the feel of it.

"About time you awoke, Champion."

"Cousland?"

"Who else would it be?"

Opening her mouth she clamped it shut, suddenly aware of what was going on, dawn already having peeked over the edges of the forest and peering down at them with a chilly animosity.

"Let me ask you something," Annabelle started, it was clear she was angry, her tone no longer that relaxed jovial coo. "Mages are suppose to be longer-ranged fighters, how in Andraste's Pink Knickers did you manage to get belted over the head with a stick? A _stick_, I've never been so embarrassed." She hissed.

Struggling she found herself utterly bound to the Hero, who was making her angry with her snippy criticism "In comparison to you, who saved an entire country from the Blight have the same thing happen to her?" She asked, making Annabelle scowl "I've been sitting in court, excuse me if my talents in beheading a man aren't as they were seven years ago." Hawke snorted, "Then perhaps you shouldn't be asking me about my skills when your own need refining." She snapped, angry.

Annabelle wiggled against her bonds, wanting to turn around and throttle the Champion for her flippancy "You've been doing Mercenary work, you have no excuse." She tossed back, earning her Hawke's head crashing into the back of her own, making the Cousland yelp and squirm.

"Sod off, I can't see in the bloody dark!" Hawke snarled and Annabelle hissed.

They sat like that, for Maker knew how long, wiggling and trying to loosen their bonds, which did nothing more then make them feel tighter then they should.

Both Cousland and Hawke were panting by the time the sun rose, the day shifting into late afternoon "Why would they bind us?" Hawke asked, making Annabelle squint, looking about their camp, the dead bodies that had fallen to them strewn about, everything they owned, gone.

"Because we're in the middle of a forest, bound and robbed, we'll die before help finds us." She said, unsure of how she truly felt about that. "A sick joke and no doubt partial revenge for killing some of the bandits who attacked us, this may just be me but I don't think the Free Marches back roads are _safe_," Cousland snapped, angry "I said they were safer, not all together free of the poachers of the main road." Hawke countered.

This was getting them no where, they really were going to die if they didn't move out of the way "Do any of them look familiar to you?" she asked and Hawke looked about, eyeing the faded leathers of the bandits armour "No. But then there are plenty of bandit troops in the Free Marches, but all of them are the same, they should have an insignia somewhere on their body, showing which group they belong too."

Looking at the corpse in front of her Annabelle would have looked for anything; all she did see was the rich, faded creases of his leather, stained with mud, blood and turned up grass. Hearing Hawke suddenly gasp made her jump, earning a sudden giggle before Hawke cleared her throat "The one in front of me, he has a lion looking creature burned into the back of his armour. It looks white, I can't tell."

Nodding her head Annabelle took a breath "Alright, we need to try and stand, the longer we sit in our own filth the longer whoever robbed us has a chance to get away."

Hawke made a sound of agreement before they pressed their backs against one another with all their might and just like walking up the side of a wall until they were standing, breathing hard "How thick and long is this forest, exactly?" Annabelle asked and Hawke chewed her lower lip "Not sure, I'd look on the map but they stole it." Voice drawl Annabelle scowled "Ha-Ha."

It took more work then what it was worth for both women to keep their balance, being bounce to one another wasn't exactly a specification on how close they truly wanted to be.

They bickered endlessly; using the trees around them to stabilize what balance they had when they felt gravity betray them.

"Lets take the back roads, she says, it's safer. Lets take a week and then some to go to Antiva City, not like we aren't wasting time, not like we have places to be and people to fine. Maker forbid we go the straight route. Do the people you normally travel with listen to you?" Annabelle asked, purposely trying to pick a fight.

"Better then the Queen without a sense of direction, we spent the entire day going in a circle because you assume you're always right!" Hawke snapped, folding under the pressure of their situation and the prodding of Annabelle's frustration.

"I normally am always right, too bad you can't see that, Champion." She groused, wanting to cry. She was hungry, tired and had to use the toilet.

Only when the forest started to thin out did the two quiet with their knit-picking fighting to rush, not realising where the forest ended a tight slope started and it was Hawke who lost her footing first, a shriek and a foul curse later the two slid down, head first until reaching the base of the hill.

Spitting out the grime of dirt and grass Annabelle burst into a loud, broken-hearted wail and Hawke leaned into the girl "Light the ropes on fire! Hawke!" Annabelle sobbed, tired of being bound, dirty and hungry, she heard the Champion sigh, "I wish I could, I could risk lighting the two of us on fire, then what good would we be?" Trying her best to comfort the now distraught hero.

The two were so focused on everything else they barely saw the smaller figure approach them, gasping and dropping her basket the small Elven woman would have spoke up "Do you two live?" She asked, both the Hero and Champion not having noticed they had fallen silent and instantly they started moving, talking at once that she didn't get a word they had said.

Kneeling before them the woman started to carve at the ropes "Were you two by chance robbed?" She asked and Hawke nodded her head "We were, then tied." Annabelle gave a muted nod. "You two are lucky, all those who are tied are left for dead, that's how we normally find them." She chirped, cutting them both free.

Springing to their feet both Hawke and Annabelle seemed to be purely ecstatic, dancing and moving freely, stiff and dirty before their eyes landed on the dark haired girl, curiously peering at them "How did you find us?" Annabelle asked, unsure before the girl moved to pick up what had fallen from her basket "Your wails, you landed at the foot of the Village of Daliah, you're in the fields. I was picking up vegetables for my mistress and saw you about."

By the way she spoke this wasn't the first time someone had been burdened the village, Hawke narrowed her eyes "How often do you find people attacked by bandits?" The Elf shrugged "Nearly every day. Come with me, my Mistress can help you." She said softly, leading the two women into the village.

It was a small village, with maybe a population of fifty, maybe less. The houses were in decent condition; a thread of merchants and farmers about, no doubt selling what they could to those who traveled threw the town when it came to that.

The Elf brought them to what looked like an Inn, or Tavern, the smell of stale ale and freshly baking bread wafting into their noses and Annabelle held her stomach, the later afternoon sun bearing harshly down upon them, staving Annabelle swayed, Hawke steadying her for a moment "Keep up, Hero. We've suffered enough embarrassment today." Annabelle agreed as they came further into the establishment.

"Elia! There you are took you long enough!" Came the gruff, angry voice, coming into view was a portly woman, dark, curly hair poured atop her head and pulled from her face.

Giving her beak of a nose a wipe with the back of her hand she swept an irritated stare over the two dirties woman, not recognizing them, which had it's merits. "Two more victims? Poor things, I'm Shile, owner of this pub. I also look after the victims of the bandit attacks. Come, I'll feed and bathe you, give you fresh clothing and you can spend the night," Such kindness warranting a suspicious look from Hawke "For what in return?" she asked and the old woman shrugged "You work for me when your bellies are full and then you're free to go."

Seemed too good to be true, making Annabelle blanch, all though the girl refused to say anything that would ruin their chances at a warm meal.

The bath water was chilly, the soaps smelt like wood and grass and the clothing was itchy. They were dressed like maidens while their clothing was being washed by the Elf girl that had been assisting them, having explained the owner of the tavern's generosity to the people who had fallen into the bandits grasp due to losing her only child to them.

So she helped where she could, it only enraged Hawke, leaving Annabelle in a soft sombre. So when they had ate, were clean and waiting for their clothing on the line Hawke approached the pub owner— Shile, who seemed more then content to be ordering her house around "What do you know about the bandits who have the lion insignia?" She asked, Annabelle at her flank.

Shile looked up, her face withered, the deep grooves and bags under her dark eyes proved she had aged a greater deal from the stress applied to her life "Nothing, they lurk about, attacking and robbing those who go out at night, we now lock our doors. Their leader claims to be the king of bandits, none have seen the creature." Her ire for them spoke in volumes.

Hawke pursed her lips "How about we repay you by killing the bandits?" Hawke offered, Annabelle keeping her silence, she would support the Champion in this "Your Elf saved us, we would have died otherwise. Consider this our thanks," She said, inclining her head as Annabelle cleared her throat "And some silver pieces." The Cousland said quickly, earning her a scowl "What? You can't fault me for asking, all we have to our name are the clothes on our backside." Annabelle protested, deepening the lines of Hawke's scowl.

Shile quirked a brow, watching the two women talk amongst themselves, why would two girls offer such a thing? Bowing her head she rubbed the arch of her brow with her middle finger, rings clinking about her fingers.

"The two of you are sort a few potatoes of a sack, aren't you?" She asked, earning a confused look from Hawke and one of amusement from Annabelle "And then some, Ma'am. You can say me and my companion specialize in this form of work, they caught us off guard." And that was putting it lightly.

Shaking her head Shile waved her meaty arm, as though dismissing them "Fine, do as you two please, I expect you to return with boon and maybe I'll have a prize for you." The old woman tried to hide her concern with amusement "They say there is a cave, an old mineshaft, really. That's where they make base. Maker keep you safe." She said nothing else; ignoring whatever else they asked or said.

Once they left the Tavern Annabelle looked at Hawke "So you want to fight an army of bandits in these frocks without weapons?" She asked, incredulous and unimpressed and Hawke smirked "Because I am without weapon doesn't mean I am defenceless, Hero. Perhaps you should reconsider your profession of warrior." She teased, mirth burning in those azure eyes.

It was a challenge.

One Annabelle met her with vigour "Fine. I'll show you exactly why I was the most supported Warden to stop the Blight." Well, it had nothing to do with skill, more like their lack of numbers and having no choice, Hawke didn't need to know that bit.

The forest was as thick as both she and Hawke remembered, weaving through the trees like a seamstress and her thread they found what Shile had described briefly as a "Tunnel" or "Mineshaft", all though it left Annabelle to wonder what the woman smoked to consider the deep, protruding cavern a "Mineshaft".

Hawke looked back at Annabelle, a frown fixed on her mouth "Alright, you need to draw out one of the bandits, I'll be covering you. Once he lays or the two lay dead we'll steal their armour and get to the king, we kill everyone." Annabelle's brow arched "That's a little blood thirsty, don't you think?" Hawke scowled "They prey on the weak and defenceless, so no." This was no time for Annabelle to develop a conscience.

Nodding her head and giving a disgusted scoff she moved to improve the shoulders and the fabric of her bust "Why is it me that is doing this? You're a woman and you can shock them to death. I am the more vulnerable one right now." Annabelle complained as Hawke rolled her eyes "Because you have the appearance of a temptress while I do not. I can admit it, you're much suited to the role of a harlot." Earning her a scowl she chuckled "It is a compliment."

"Oh yes, being called a whore is certainly a compliment. How stupid do you think I am? I'm the married one, not the one in the love-triangle." Leaving a dumbstruck Hawke behind as Annabelle began to sing loudly, swaying back and forth and looking more like a drunken bimbette then a warrior Queen.

Hawke had to keep from laughing before she fell at the sight of three men coming from the mouth of the cave, eyeing her fallen form with chuckles and provocative movements, making Hawke gag.

Annabelle would have to repent for this, for even trying to lure another man, her thoughts drifting back to Alistair, he would have a heart attack if he ever found out— he never would. Shifting her weight on her hands she fell onto her back, pretending not to notice the men making their way to her.

"The Maker comes to me!" She yelled, startling a few birds into flight "He loves me! Loves me like a man and his ale!" Her voice turned into an off-cue singing. Hawke bit the inside of her cheek, stifling her laughter.

When they got closer Annabelle propped herself up on her elbows, poking her lower lip out and pouting "Why is it you men can never please me properly?" She asked weakly, as defenceless as she could as the first man's mouth spread into a broad grin. Maker forgive her— Alistair, forgive her.

The moment he dipped down Annabelle lurched up, hands clamping against his face thumbs squeezing against his eye-sockets, startling a loud shriek from him, pulling back her hands reached out, snagging the dagger before running it through his throat. Blood sprayed as a gurgled gasp was the last of the man before drawing the dagger back and flinging it out, hitting the other in the head, watching him fall Annabelle darted up, diving out of the way of the third's reach.

Hawke watched Annabelle take care of the first two men, her precision deadly and a little terrifying at the fact she had no issue killing someone without much thought. Leaping into action when the Cousland dove to the side she flung her hands out, electricity jumping from her fingers and a strand of it shooting out, hitting the third man and he wiggled in his spot before crumbling to the ground, smoke blooming from his corpse.

Moving to help Annabelle up she spoke "Brave, leaping to the side like that, I could have left you to be at the mercy of the man." Hawke told her and Annabelle smirked, brows furrowing "I know how to kill a man four ways with my bare-hands." She told the Champion who quirked a brow at that, well then.

"Let's not dawdle, we've wasted enough time, strip their armour and weapons. You know how to use magic threw blades, right?" Annabelle asked, peeling the chainmail and splint greaves and gloves from the first corpse, gagging at the smell of sweat, and death that had clung to it, she was going to need to bathe again when they got back to the village.

"Yes, I know how, I'm not a moron." She said as the two dressed quickly and strapping the weapons to their bodies they lingered inside of the cave.

Annabelle stepped lightly, keeping her eyes peered of any traps and deactivating them when she did, a tripwire, a bear-trap and what looked like a statue ready to crumble and crush her and Hawke if they weren't careful. "They should have a treasury somewhere, where we can get our armour and supplies back, maybe more." Something they could sell and get more coin for their journey.

But whatever quietness they had been experiencing ended abruptly when Annabelle turned a corner and stumbled into a small group of bandits, five, six at most and they peered down at her and Hawke, at first not passing a second glance and they had the fullest intent of walking past. For sure she thought they'd be stopped, but they weren't. They were glared at and they went on their way.

Hawke would have pulled herself closer to Annabelle's side "That was suspicious." She asked and Annabelle nodded her head "I know it was, they know we're not part of the group. Bandits know when someone has infiltrated them. Meaning they want us to find their King." It was sort of sick if you thought about it.

Annabelle frowned "Keep on guard, we're walking straight into a trap." She said as they came to the last door at the end of the narrowed maze. The doors they had tried were lock and she was a little ill prepared to be picking them. Looking to Hawke Annabelle gave a simple nod of her head and pushed it open, walking right into the lion's den.

There were about ten to fifteen bandits sitting in what looked like a hall made out of stone, tables, chairs and what looked like a still was set up, they were drinking, getting merry, or at least they were until they spotted them. She felt Hawke tense and Annabelle made sure to relax her posture, striding forth.

If they wanted to go for the kill they were taking their time, she felt as alien as she probably looked, the armour was too big and too tight around her hips.

When they reached the middle of the hall a singular clap of hands drew her and Hawke's attention "My, this I certainly wasn't expecting when I woke up this morning." Came the gruff, gravely voice. Turning her head Annabelle and Hawke came face-to-face with the Bandit King.

His hair was cropped, the colour of tree-bark, slicked and styled into a stylish mass. His eyes were small, beady and leading to a ball of a nose, his chin and jowls rounded and covered with thick, black stubble and a big, brown beard braided and rolled to keep out of his way.

His body was short, stocky and covered in black armour.

Annabelle gaped. "The King of Bandits is a _Dwarf_?" She hissed and Hawke's brow quirked, it wasn't what she was expecting; Elves were more of the thievery type, not Dwarves.

He laughed, his armour wiggling and clinking in protest to the excess of movement "I knew someone would be coming, you must be the little rouge and mage my boys robbed blind last night." He said, peering at them, olive eyes glinting with a heady amount of mirth.

"I was expecting you to be taller." Annabelle quipped, making Hawke scowl "Don't, we're outnumbered." She said under her breath and she shrugged, yanking the helmet from her head "He was expecting us, that's why there are so many right now." She told the Champion, who sighed and pulled the helmet off and tossed it down.

The dwarf merely eyed them, studying who they were "You want to know how I knew you were coming?" He asked and Annabelle gave him a bored look "Well, you robbed us so I'm assuming you violated what privacy we had and went threw out belongings." A rightful guess because the dwarf pulled out her Warden Amulet, making her scowl.

"I know what this is." He taunted, swinging it back and forth between his fingers "You're a Grey Warden. You know how much someone would charge for a Warden's amulet? It has the taint and is said to give special abilities." He told them and Annabelle scoffed "Maybe to the Warden wearing it, otherwise it's a creepy piece of jewellery. The real price is in the Warden, who yes, have special abilities. Sorry, Dwarf, I don't think I conscript a thief." She tossed back, trying to sound as aloof as she could, when in reality she felt like she had just been violated.

Very rarely had she ever removed that amulet, it was hers, it had her memories, her past and everything that had meaning to her life symbolized in it. Watching his grimy fingers stroke it was making her ill, she was fiercely protective over it and it took everything she had not to go over and scratch his podgy little face off.

Hawke watched Annabelle, her blatant nonchalance over what was happening; all though the fire in her pale blue eyes said differently, she was upset the Dwarf was manhandling her Warden's amulet.

"Another interesting thing I found was a notebook, a Nobel man's Crest and the quality of the weapons the two of you had." He said and Hawke frowned "So?" She asked and Annabelle kept silence, he had read her notebook too? Now she felt like she had been mentally raped.

Angry and losing her patience Hawke spoke "Why we have them isn't your concern, Dwarf. If I were you I would return what you stole, before you and your lot get hurt." She threatened and earned the pair a loud, guffaw and a few singular chuckles from the men around them. They could very well die here, they could be forgotten and lost and everyone they knew and loved would miss them.

Sucking her breath in Annabelle spoke, her voice low and only for Hawke "Fifteen men in total, I hope you know some sort of healing spells, Mage. We're about to get our Asses handed to us." She said, the Bandit King would have moved from his perch, coming towards them "Hurt? I could maybe believe that, you did kill quite a few of my men. Do you ladies have a name? I'd like to know so I can remember fondly your idle stupidity." Annabelle and Hawke passed a silent look to one another "I'm Annabelle Cousland Theirin," Hawke smiled "I'm Sarah Hawke. It's our pleasure to meet the Bandit King Dwarf, what should we call you when we retell the tail of us murdering your entire troop?" She asked, making Annabelle giggle as colour splotched his cheeks.

"Kill them!" He snarled.

That was when the entire room erupted into chaos. Men attacked them from all sides, weapons drawn and coming towards the two. "Duck!" Hawke yelled at Annabelle whom had done what she asked, because moments later the woman tossed out her hands, wind curdling from her palms before a large, uneven gust exploded, tossing around the bandits like they were paper dolls and not meat and bone.

Impressed she would have advanced on the nearest bandit when the spell had died down, gripping the stolen daggers backwards in her palms, the hilts big and bulky and not her own, so they were just a bit harder for her to use, it didn't mean she didn't know how.

Reaching over her arms extended, catching the first man in the throat, twisting he fell with a gurgled scream, blood spewing and he dropped. Several more fell that way, coating Annabelle in a thick sheen of blood, sweat and grime. Every time she twisted she covered more ground, cutting off another's hand before he could sink his sword into her.

Hawke watched Annabelle fight with a monstrous battle prowess, it was nearly inhuman watching her body slink and disarm and murder any who had gotten in her way, not to say the woman wasn't getting her own fair share of a beating, which was where Hawke came in, she'd throw the ball of green, sparkling energy at her, healing the wound and letting the rouge progress.

All the while she twisted her own blades, sending out the different elements that she forced from her body into the weapons. Lighting one on fire, slicing another's head from his body with a cool whip of water.

Even then the fifteen was turning into less and they were becoming tired, she could see Annabelle's movements turning sluggish, letting an enemy land a arrow threw shoulder, the girl fell back and Hawke immediately moved to cover her, protecting her was still her duty, all though she wasn't obligated to do it.

Annabelle let out a hiss as she felt the wood slide right threw the crease in her armour and into her shoulder, making her fall back, Hawke immediately over her as she took a breath "Stay down, Cousland." She warned and she did so, reaching up to snap the arrow, giving a soft whine in the process before she watched fire flicker from her companion's hand, an inferno being called before lighting the rest of the bandits aflame, all of which either sank down or ran out the door shrieking murder from the pain being delivered to them.

Standing with Hawke's help they would have made their way back to the Bandit King, who had been covered by the stone throne and had been spared most of Hawke's inferno attack. He peered up at them, those bushy brows high as he watched them. Holding her shoulder and partly leaning on Hawke she spoke "Where's our belongings? I want all of it." She snarled and the Dwarf pulled a key from his neck and tossed it to Hawke who caught it "Behind the throne is the treasury." He told them.

"Now, what to do with you." Hawke murmured swaying the key back and forth, the Dwarf, despite about to meet his doom seemed relaxed "You two are something else, aren't you?" He asked, narrowing his beady little eyes at them "I should have recruited you before those Antivan fools." He chirped, a broad, chubby smile on his face, as Annabelle couldn't help but smile, Hawke, however not so pleased.

The Dwarf laughed, shaking his head, his jowls wiggling "Spare me and I swear you won't regret it." He told them and Hawke looked disgusted "Why would we do something like that?" She asked and the Dwarf paused, thinking about it before replying "Because I can be of great service to you, now this isn't me begging, this is I offering." Annabelle, who had been silent, spoke up "Okay then." She chirped.

Hawke jerked her head to look at Annabelle, aghast she would even agree, "He robbed us and left us to die!" She protested and Annabelle shrugged "Yes, as would many others, we've proved we're obviously the more dominated species and sex, lets let him go." She said, gesturing to the startled dwarf. Hawke just as incredulous "Why now, of all times do you grow a good morality to spare someone who left us to die?" She asked, earning her a scowl from Annabelle "What the hell is that suppose to mean?" the Cousland snapped, making Hawke shake her head "Fine, but when this comes to bite us in the ass I'm never going to let it go." Hawke told her, making Annabelle beam before holding her hand out "Before you go, Dwarf. Give me back my amulet," When he held it out she snatched it, retying it around her neck, feeling whole again.

Watching the Bandit King get up and retreat Annabelle and Hawke moved into the backroom, getting what they could, their own belongings and anything else they could carry back to the village.

Upon their arrival back, covered in blood, bandit armour and swore Shile would have stood, flabbergasted by such a thing "I wasn't expecting you two to return!" She said before they dumped what they had gotten from their victory over the bandits "This should be enough for your village." Hawke told them, making Annabelle gasp, "What are you doing!" She shrieked, earning her a startled look from Shile and a scowl from Hawke "This is what you get for letting the Dwarf get away, consider this karma." She tossed back, making Annabelle whine and trot off to pout in the corner.

Looking back to Shile Hawke smiled "We'll be taking the rest, we wish to spend the night before moving on." Shile nodded her head, looking as pleased as any person honestly could.

That night Hawke and Annabelle ate their fill, bathed until their skin was white and pruned before sleeping a good night's sleep in a plush bed. In the morning they slipped without anyone knowing, Shile having left them some dried meat, bread and vegetables to take with them.

After they left they found the main road and stayed on it, keeping their distance and making quick work of the distance it would take to get to Antiva, even if they did fall into the same patterns of friendly bickering.

Antiva was in sight, just over the horizon after four days of consistent travel, stopping when they could and surviving the best they could.

It was a step up from being robbed and trying to kill each other over petty disagreements, a _big_ step up.


	7. The Tipping TeaPot

Disclaimer: Everything Dragon Age belongs too Bioware.

A/N: I'm so sorry for my lack updates, life got in the way. So here I offer you all who have been keeping up with me a chapter seven, I hope you enjoy it. Read and Review, please and thank you.

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Chapter Seven

Antiva City was everything that Annabelle had heard of, a people of passion, character and rather delightfully brazen about… well, everything around them.

Hawke, just as mystified as the Cousland gaped at the Tuscan houses, fondling the rivers curve and spinning an array of colours for the spring morning of the city, easily making both women stare in wonder at their current location.

"Easily the best place we've been too so far." Annabelle said softly and Hawke nodded her head "But don't forget why we're here." Hawke warned and the Cousland shrugged her shoulders "We can stray but for a moment." She chirped and Hawke gave her a dull, sour stare "Wasn't it "We need to hurry" and "Time is of the essence" the last time we were out on the road?" Hawke murmured sharply and Annabelle smiled broadly at her "Time is of the essence, but this is the first time we can truly indulge in some of the finer things of life. A hot bath, a big, warm meal and feather-down beds to leave us limber for the days to come." Annabelle all but sang as she skipped ahead.

The woman truly was raised in Nobility, some days it bled threw her more then it should. Shaking her head she darted after the Cousland, tugging her to a stop. "We have a time limit, Annabelle, or did you forget what the Dalish had told us?" She asked and Annabelle scowled, clearly not thankful for the reminder.

"Yes, now that you've sucked the fun out of everything, again Hawke. Lets find the Tipping Tea-Pot. Odd name if you ask me." She pointed out and was delivered a lazy shrug from Hawke.

Several days ago the two women had stumbled across the Dalish camp they had been directed too all those weeks ago, they had been stopped right at the banisters. No outsiders welcome, despite everything Hawke had silenced Annabelle and explained as much as she could.

The Keeper, a youthful woman named Elavia told them to leave, that they had already lost much to "their kind" and didn't want to take any risks, no matter how "friendly" both Hawke and Annabelle appeared to them.

But the Cousland could only be silent for so long before blurting that they could do something, for good faith. Obviously desperate for them to give her that blasted mirror so they could track down her companion, Morrigan.

After much persisting— on the Cousland's part and Hawke's assurance she truly was this way, always— they agreed. They had to get back an elf named "Ariston" the Keepers second and a child that had been very precious to her before hunters came and stole the child.

Heartfelt for the Keeper Annabelle agreed. But, only within the week could that happen, it took three days to get to Antiva City where the child was being kept in a building called "The Tipping Tea-Pot", and much to the displeasure of Annabelle cutting her time short in this beautiful but obviously corrupt city.

"Why do you suppose they call it the Tipping Tea-Pot?"

"Maybe they serve tea?"

"So they would steal an Elven child to make him serve tea?"

"Man-Kind has done far more bizarre things to their Elven counter-parts it truly would not surprise me."

"You feel far too much."

"And you feel not enough for someone of your standing."

A familiar conversation that seemed to happen often, Hawke often commenting on Annabelle's lack of morality and considering she was a "Queen" and she was losing that term loosely with the Cousland Rouge. But after all this time traveling— a few weeks, so not that long, she was growing on Hawke, among other things. She was learning her facial expressions, quirks and other things to handle her, so it doesn't lead them into another argument where a poacher could sneak up and rob the two of them blind.

Yes, that would be bad. But all in all Hawke found herself becoming accustomed to the woman's antics, she wasn't boring and kept her on her toes, regardless of the situation. They fought but it dulled down, it was more of a companionable bicker then the rawring arguments they had upon first meeting.

As the two wandered the streets Hawke found herself just as enthralled as the Cousland, who in all her glory was buying at least a dozen small knickknacks at nearly all the venders "Hawke, look, look!" She chirped, shoving what looked like a flowered, iron twisted barrette into her hands, making the woman pause and hold it up, the fading light, making her smile.

She hadn't felt this way since Bethany had been alive, taking her from store to store, making her buy things she never would without someone there to tell her how good it looked on her.

Catching Hawke's expression when eyeing the hair-clip she nodded her head, paying for it and dragging the girl down the cobblestone path. That was how they managed to waste their entire day, shopping, eating and just enjoying themselves, telling each other every couple of hours that they were indeed searching for this building.

When night did manage to slip over the folds of the city, casting the white stone in a golden hue. Annabelle had decided to do the responsible thing and finally ask where she could find the Tipping Tea-Pot, which she and Hawke headed over too immediately. She had wasted enough time and with her energy at full she knew she could be ready enough to kidnap an Elven child.

Reaching the elaborate, tall building Annabelle studied it "This… this doesn't look like a tea-shop." She murmured and Hawke shook her head before heading to the door. "Far too elegant for a place that'll serve a steamed beverage." Hawke told her and walked in after holding the door for Annabelle.

They had been wrong, very, very wrong.

What they stumbled into was a whorehouse, a very high-priced whorehouse, and a place that could put the Blooming Rose to shame. "Oh…" Annabelle said, mouth pressed into a tight line.

"I… I don't know whether or not I should be disgusted or not." Hawke said softly, the nearly naked women of all races trotting around, serving drinks or lining up to be used for the night.

"So… the people stole an Elven child to put him into a whore house?" Annabelle asked and Hawke's face pinched with a mixture of anger and disgust "I assume so. We need to find the boy, now." Her voice hard as the Cousland gave a nod of her head in agreement.

Puckering her lower lip Annabelle looked about, suddenly catching Hawke's hard look, turning her head she let her eyes fall on what looked like a stage, a public display having been set up with what looked like a man laying amongst the throw of pillows.

"Hawke—" Annabelle was cut off as Hawke held her hand up, silencing her as she moved closer. The Cousland's face scrunched with annoyance now was not the time for the Champion too get an itch she needed scratched.

But watching the dark haired girl move to the stage, staring at the blank faced male. It only took her but a moment to come back, storming to Annabelle's side before tugging her off and to the side of the room, eyes never wavering "That's the child!" She hissed under her breath and Annabelle looked confused "Whom?" She asked and Hawke flailed her arms in the naked man's direction.

"That's Ariston! I over heard from what I assume is a patron, they put him on display for his beauty, he's half Elven." Hawke said, mirroring the shock on Annabelle's face. "No, that can't be right. He looks human." She murmured and Hawke shook her head slowly "The human gene is more dominant in half-breeds. What I find confusing is how he's the Keeper's second. They normally aren't all for their human counterparts." She said softly. Annabelle agreeing as both women turned to stare at the propped, naked Elf-Man.

Too busy caught up in staring at the man they barely noticed the stocky, bulbous looking woman trot onto the stage, standing beside the mess of pillows and Ariston she held her hands out "Welcome!" She yelled, startling both as they looked at her.

"The time has come for the prize of the evening. Ariston— an Elven born man. Gifted by the Maker in body and prowess, the true jewel of the Tipping Tea-Pot, as he will surely make you tip your own." She cooed and Annabelle snorted— stifling a laugh, earning her a scowl from Hawke before turning their attention back to the woman on the stage.

"Let the bids begin."

Eyes wide Annabelle spoke, voice hushed "They auction him off for the night!" She hissed and looked back to Hawke to find her gone, having vanished in the midst of the growing and now yelling crowd. Different people, male, female, old and young. It was disgusting.

Scowering the crowd for Hawke she barely recognized the dark-haired woman stand on a chair, to be seen above the crowd before speaking up "Eighty-Thousand Andres!" She yelled, making Annabelle stop cold and whirled around to see Hawke, in all her glory trying to buy the Elf. Obviously that had to be a lot, she remembered five thousand being little to nothing, meaning eighty thousand something-rather had to be quite the sum.

In a panic Annabelle shoved her way through the crowd and tried to pull Hawke down "Are you out of your mind?" She snarled and Hawke smirked "You told me to have fun," She said, a sly little smile on her face "Yes, of the poor variety. Not the type that could bankrupt an entire little village." Annabelle snapped before the woman on stage clapped her hands.

"Sold! To the dark-haired woman and her friend!"

Annabelle felt a piece of herself die, right then and there. They didn't have the money! They had nothing but the clothes on their backsides and the food in their packs and the weapons at their hips! She tugged Hawke down, who didn't give her a chance to respond before tugging Annabelle forth, pausing before the stage as most of the crowd had cleared out, going back to their evening conquests of women, men and ale.

"You will not be disappointed, I assure you, my friend." The woman on the stage said, her mouth curling into a froggy smile.

"You see, I'm looking to make this a sort of… investment, if you would." Hawke murmured to the woman, who looked more interested then she should as Hawke leaned in "Me and my friend, you see we're Nobles. We're actually investing in some of the brothels, because lets face it, people spent more time here then they would with their own families." She cooed and Annabelle watched, transfixed.

"Go on." The stage-woman whispered softly before Hawke dug something out of her robe and held it out for the woman to see— Annabelle's Cousland's crest "Consider this a future for your house, Madam. After a night with that beautiful man you'll double in your price, I assure you." Hawke said, nodding her head before holding it out to her "What do you say?" She asked and the woman contemplated it before a strange, shadowy smile curled her thin mouth.

"Who am I to say no to a relative to the King and Queen of Ferelden? I will seek payment on the 'morrow." Hawke shook her head, agreeing before shoving the crest back into the sleeve of her robe and the stage-woman moved, proceeding to untie Ariston and lead him to the back.

Annabelle took that chance to seize Hawke's arm, scowling "When did you take that? And how dare you! You pretty much sullied our name!" She snapped and Hawke glared "How else do you think I could have delayed a payment? He's a lot of money, Cousland. Don't worry no one will think anything of it." She said before handing Annabelle back the crest before leading her to the back room.

The stage-woman met them outside the door "Summon me when you two are done, but considering how well the lad is I doubt I will see you until tomorrow's first light." She said with a cheeky laugh before inclining her head and treading down the hallway, leaving the two women to enter the room.

Now, Annabelle didn't have much experience in these types of places, she had been to the Pearl maybe once, twice as a side-job during the Fifth Blight for money she and her companions had needed.

This place by far exceeded anything the Pearl had to offer.

The room was draped in fine satin, silk and sheer, in the deep colours of red, purple and blue. Lanterns propped in each corner, giving the room a dull, golden lit. Pillows of all sizes littered the floor, a small fountain trickling what looked like gold water lay in the middle of the room.

But what stole her breath was the mere creature she and Hawke had meant to bring back to the Keeper.

Quite literally they stood, gaping at the man before them. He had the grace of an elf, despite being nothing more then human. Dark eyes peering at them through dark, long lashes. His hair nearly a matching shade of charcoal black, his skin a flawless shade of caramel. It had to be something in the water, because the Elf-Man just compelled them, he was simply… beautiful, masculine and desire leaked from every pore of his body.

In nothing more then gold chains layering his body Annabelle suddenly let go of a horse giggle "O-Oh my." She murmured and Hawke smiled "H-Hi…" She choked before the Cousland scowled "Now Hawke, remember whose Crest you used to buy him."

Hawke scoffed "You're married." She tossed back "And you're in the midst of a love-triangle." Hawke scowled "No I'm—" Annabelle cut her off "Denial won't make it go away, Hawke."

It only took them a moment to realise what they were doing and whom they were fighting over. Shaking her head Hawke looked about, eyes landing on what appeared to be an incense burner, stomping over to it she flung off the gold-pleated lid and scowled "Lyrium, they're burning Lyrium." She said, sceptical. Annabelle arched a brow "Why?" She asked and that earned them the first response from their guest.

"It intensifies the pleasure." He said, voice as calm as could be as Hawke scowled "That's wrong." She said and Ariston shrugged his brawny shoulders "We do what we must." Annabelle gave him an odd look, how could he be so relaxed? He was being kept here against his will.

"Your Keeper sent us." Hawke told him, holding her hand out and freezing the Lyrium, stopping it from further infiltrating their senses as his face immediately broke out into a smile "I see. I had almost assumed she forgot about me." He looked almost sad and it broke Hawke's heart.

Nodding her head she spoke "We're going to break you out. No word about it." She said and Annabelle, who hadn't stopped staring, spoke "You're a Mage, aren't you? Why haven't you just escaped yourself?" She asked, earning a curious look from Hawke.

"Since I've arrived they've given me an injection of a type of rooted-drug, it prematurely sinks my powers. It's almost like being made tranquil; except they want me to use what magic I have left to influence the pleasure I give to those who buy me for the evening. It's also why they burn Lyrium and a specific flower to cover the smell of the burning roots." It was almost inhumane, it explained his calm disposition and how he barely seemed to care about being found or not.

"Do you have clothing?" Hawke asked, indeed making the Cousland remember that their newest companion wasn't wearing any clothing.

Shaking his head Ariston reached down and moved to die a blanket around his waist "I'm given nothing but bread and water for the evening so I have energy to please those who buy me." He sounded so… Tranquil that it was making Hawke uncomfortable.

Reaching out she snagged Annabelle's arm "Help me lodge the window open to get him out." Annabelle nodded her head and moved to the window, using her daggers to pry it open without having to smash the glass, which draw too much attention too them.

"Come!" Hawke hissed, ushering Ariston over, who went without much of a fuss, she doubted he could fight them even if he truly wanted too. All she thought about was Fenris and immediately her heart went out too the Elf-Man who deserved to be free of this.

"Uh… Hawke? How do you assume we get down from the second story?" She asked curiously, eyeing the Mage who pursed her lip in thought, they could get out, of course they could. They had magic, but she doubted that could be enough to do something. "Climb the balcony, Annabelle." She murmured, letting Annabelle go first, then Ariston and then Hawke.

It was a strenuous thing, climbing down and leaping from that still much distance of dangling from the balcony. When she fell and landed in a harsh crouch she felt the zap and tingle of pain dance up her legs as she and Hawke spent the remainder of the evening totting around a high and sultry Elf-Man, looking for a Tavern they could keep for a day and night, enough to get him some proper clothing.

Once they managed to ensnare a room— a low-key tavern by the river's side and giving Ariston the only bed as the two women camped out on the floor, curled on the hard wood was not what Annabelle would call pleasurable. By morning her bones were stiff and her mood sour.

Hawke was explaining that Ariston couldn't go outside, that by now they would be wanted and people would be searching for them. So they took rounds looking after him, Hawke would go getting him clothes, then Annabelle to get food and they switched off, being cautious and careful of where they went.

They would leave this evening, when it was darker then night and enough of a cover to let them leave Antiva City without much trouble.

So giving Ariston time to change and a little privacy now that the Lyrium and whatever else they were feeding him was wearing off they went below to see if they couldn't find something for the three of them to eat, not that Tavern food was Annabelle's first choice but it would have to do for now.

"You know, I don't think I enjoy Antiva City anymore." Hawke said and Annabelle nodded her head in silent agreement, now that they were on the run they couldn't exactly enjoy everything as they had yesterday, but Ariston was a mere inch from being free and they couldn't stop there because they wanted a vacation.

Annabelle was a little too absorbed in the pint being served too her to notice anyone enter the Tavern, and it was only Hawke looking up at the shuffling of movement from the corner of her eye, watching what looked like the City-Guard call up among the music and crowd "We have authorization to search this establishment for two fugitives who've stolen something. They're claiming to be Nobles from Ferelden, possibly murders among other things. They are considered very dangerous." The one man said, holding up what looked like a wanted poster.

Hawke gasped, shaking Annabelle and making her spill some of the foamy ale of her pint "Annabelle!" She hissed under her breath, making the Cousland turn around, "What?" She grumbled, eyes landing on that wanted poster and with a near likeliness of both herself and Hawke.


End file.
